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could only get the man close enough.
    Teague arched an eyebrow. “Your dear old mama? Her condition is unchanged. But she has been chatty lately, the old dear. Her mind drifts, as you know. This morning she mistook me for some old acquaintance or another. Maybe the accent triggered some precious memory. All she wanted to do was boast about her children, about her beautiful daughter and her handsome son, the successful entrepreneur.”
    Quinn blinked, trying to make sense of Teague’s demeanor.
    â€œI told you we were thinking long term, Quinn,” the man said slowly. “About the next generation. I told you that full-bloods were more useful to us. That mother of yours might be a few clowns short of a circus, but her little episode this morning has more than made it worth my while to keep her breathing.”
    In the deep mud of Quinn’s brain, a thought began to form. A terrible, terrible thought.
    â€œNo,” he rasped.
    Now Teague smiled. “Oh, yes. Congratulations, Mr. Quinn. Mama told us you’re a new daddy.”
    The smile slid away, vanishing slowly until Teague looked feral.
    â€œYou will tell me where to find this infant, Mr. Quinn. In return, I will not order my people to torture your mother. I will not order them to kill her. I will not order them to torture you. Your son will be raised well, if strictly, and he will grow to be a great warrior—in the service of the highest bidder.”
    Quinn stared death at him.
    â€œTell me, and you will all live,” Teague said. “Even your son and his mother.”
    â€œYou would have to kill me,” Quinn snarled. “And you would have to kill his mother.”
    â€œYou drive a hard bargain, but okay. We’ll kill you and we’ll kill your wife, or whatever she is. But your mother will live.”
    â€œNo, I . . .” he mumbled, fighting the effects of the drugs. “You think I . . . No. You will never touch my child. Never see my child. Even I do not know where he is.”
    Thank you, Tij,
he thought.
Thank you so much for your insistence upon tradition.
    Teague actually laughed. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.”
    For several seconds they only glared at each other, and then Teague threw up his hands in frustration.
    â€œAll right. Honestly, I hoped it could be done simply, but it isn’t as if I expected you to just tell me, even with all the ugly things my people will do to your mother.”
    â€œDon’t—”
    Teague shook his head. “Be serious, Quinn. I have a job to do. You haven’t left me any choice.”

    They made no attempt to torture Quinn himself—at least not physically. Teague had to know that no amount of physical agony would have persuaded him to willingly surrender his infant son. Instead, the man in charge was as cruel as his word. That afternoon, they tapered off the sedative drip just enough so that he could clear many of the cobwebs from his mind. He still couldn’t focus enough to make a full transformation, but he could watch as they brought his mother into the room with the same control poles. They humiliated her, spat on her, and kicked her. She was not as sedated as he had been during his weeklong haze, but they had drugged her enough that she could not fight back as they cut her skin.
    Quinn roared at first. In time, he wept. When Teague brought in an electric branding iron of the sort ranchers used for cattle, he hurled himself against his bonds. The chains clanked and strained and he heard the creak of metal stressed to its limit, and one of Teague’s men chambered a shotgun round and aimed at his mother’s face.
    â€œSit back, Mr. Quinn,” Teague said. “Sit back or her life ends now.”
    â€œDo it, then!” his mother roared, whipping her head up to face the shotgun.
    Quinn held his breath, staring, the little boy he had once been crying