“No one but the director has full access.” Sara’s tone held a thread of the famous Haziz steel. “You promise me you’ll think about the assistant director position and I’ll give you access.”

“That would be lying,” Elena said. “I’d go crazy behind a desk.”

“I thought that once upon a time, and I’m as happy as a clam.”

“What do clams have to do with anything?” Elena muttered.

“Beats me. Say you’ll consider it.”

“There’s a crucial difference between me and you, Ms. Director.” She let her tone speak for her. “Choose an A.D. out of one of the other married hunters. Don’t waste it on me.”

A sigh. “The fact that you’re single doesn’t mean I want you out there in the line of fire. You’re my best friend, my sister in all but blood.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Ditto.” After Elena’s own family had disowned her, it had been Sara who’d picked up the pieces. Their bond was close to unbreakable. “You know as well as I do that I’m not made for safety. I was born to be what I am.” A hunter. A tracker. A loner.

“Why do I bother arguing with you?” A shake of her head that Elena could almost see. “I’m coding you in now.”

That was what Elena loved about the Guild. There was no messy paperwork—hunters chose their director, then trusted her to make the decisions. No meetings, no board. No fucking around.

“Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” The sound of rapid typing. “A hint of warning—I have a feeling certain high-security files are discreetly monitored for access.”

“By who?” But she knew the answer. “On what authority?”

“The same one that lets them hire out my people without telling me what the hell is going on,” Sara spat out. “I became director so I could help keep hunters safe. Raphael is going to learn that—”

“Don’t!” Elena cried. “Please, Sara, don’t approach him. The only reason, the only reason I’m still alive is that he needs me to do a job. Otherwise, you’d probably have spent a lovely afternoon identifying my body”—or what remained of it—“at the morgue.”