The local lawhouse was a brooding fortress of pale, kiln-hardened ceramic blocks, reinforced with long ribs of dark metal at regular intervals along its structure. Rising five stories high, it formed an angular horseshoe with a broad plaza facing the main thoroughfare, paved with hard-mud slabwork. Three identical stairways rose to the entrances on the middle, left and right of the plaza, the late morning sun throwing a blaze of gold over the eastern portion of the building.

Armed vulkin guards flanked the doors, keeping a wary eye on the citykin flowing in and out, be they witnesses, suspects, or simply concerned citizens making reports. The place seethed with activity, patrols coming and going, orders barking in the air to mix with the scent of cheap muskbrew and cooked meat from the lawhouse kitchens.

And in a dingy, low-lit box of a room, squirrelled away on the first floor of the eastern wing, Jett sat.

Her eyes were dry now, but red-rimmed as she stared at the surface of the metal table. She clasped her paws on her lap, shoulders slumped, a pain burning in her throat. An agony burning in her heart.

It had taken three of them to drag her from the den. When she finally stopped struggling they'd half-led, half-carried her hollow shell through the streets to the lawhouse. Now she waited for... an interview. At least that's what Bronco called it. It was a polite word for interrogation. Jett tried to think of what to say to them when the time came, of how she could possibly rationalise everything that had happened. Even in her own head it all seemed so impossible, like a fever dream.

Could she really sit here in a lawhouse and accuse the wolfkin enforcers? Would anyone believe it?

Her jaw twitched and she swallowed hard. She didn't have a choice. She was alone now, and the enforcers were still out there, waiting; hunting. The walls of the lawhouse would keep her safe for now, but she needed a plan. She couldn't hide here for the rest of her life.

The lock on the door clunked and Jett finally raised her eyes from the table. Bronco came through first, dipping his head slightly as he entered the room. A female watchguard followed, not as big as Bronco but still tall and powerfully built. Her coat was golden, large ears peeking through a short bob cut of deep brown headfur. The soft lines of her muzzle crinkled slightly as she appraised Jett, eyes deep, dark and unreadable.

Jett shifted uncomfortably; lowered her eyes again. The two vulkin slipped into the chairs opposite her and she could feel the tension in the air. What had happened in her den was an order of magnitude worse than anything the local guard packs would normally have to deal with.

"Jett?"

She looked up at Bronco's voice. Nodded.

"This is Guard Seleena."

"Hi." It came out in a croak.

"Good afternoon." Seleena's voice was soft; thick. Her expression softened and she gave Jett a gentle nod. "Before we begin, I'd like to say how sorry we are for your loss."

Jett sniffed. "Thanks."

"That being said, with a crime of this nature, the quicker we move the faster we can bring the people who did it to justice. Are you up to answering some questions?"

"Yeah." She coughed to clear her throat and met the vulkin's stare. "What do you want to know?"

"I understand you have a mate? He wasn't at the scene and no-one seems to be able to locate him."

Her chest tightened, a lump rising in her throat again. She tried to open her mouth to say his name, but her voice failed her. The tears threatened to well up again and she blinked furiously, trying to keep her composure. She managed to nod.

"Jett?" Bronco asked, an edge of worry in his voice. "Where's Tyr?"

"He..." She clenched her paws. Swallowed. "Tyr's dead too."

A moment of stunned silence hung in the air. The two watchguards exchanged disbelieving glances. Seleena leaned back in her seat, her brow creasing into a frown.

"I think you'd better start from the beginning," she said, her voice level. "Where were you last night?"

Jett cleared her throat again. She had to keep it together if she wanted the vulkin to believe even a piece of the insanity she was about to unload on them. So she started at the beginning, trying not to give any real indication of the probable illegality of what the felkin had asked of her. She kept it simple, and truthful. Someone paid her to do a job, then dropped out of contact. She and Tyr went to find out why.

"The Arventia Warrenary," she clarified when prompted. "I traced a call he made there."

"You traced the howlwire?"

She stiffened at the accusation in Seleena's voice and shot the guard a glare. "It's not that hard. Any tech-breaker worth their own skin could do it."

"Why didn't you report him missing?"

"How in the Peace and Fire could I have reported him missing? I didn't even know his name!" Jett's voice leapt into a shrill yowl of anger before she could stop it, her patience rapidly evaporating with each question that threatened to derail her. With an effort, she took a steadying breath, lowering her tone. "He paid for discretion. You both work this district. You know that's not unusual."

"She's right," Bronco grunted, casting a sidelong glance at his partner. Seleena shrugged; scribbled something down on the ream of barkpaper that lay in front on her.

"We went out there," Jett continued. "And we found out which room he was staying in from the clerk." A half-lie; it was hardly worth getting snarled up in all the insignificant details now. "We went to the room to see if he was there."

"And then what?"

"We found him."

"Do you have a name?"

"No I don't have a name, because he was dead!" Jett barked out before she could stop herself. Her claws scraped on the tabletop as she tensed. "You can go out there if you don't believe me – room U-114. The place was a bloodbath."

Seleena looked thoroughly dubious. Bronco leaned forward, giving her a quizzical look.

"Jett, what does this have to do with what happened to your family?"

"We didn't just find his body," she explained. "The people that killed him, they were...wolfkin."

That word alone struck a chord. Both of her interrogators exchanged surprised looks. Bronco turned back, his broad eyes narrow with confusion.

"So wolfkin killed your...customer?"

"Not just any wolfkin. They were enforcers."

"Careful," Seleena hissed. "That's quite an accusation you're throwing there."

Jett almost exploded out of her chair as she glared at the female watchguard. "I don't care. Because those same enforcers chased me all the way to my workshop and tried to kill me. I got away, so they went to my family."

"Jett..." Bronco pinched the bridge of his snout with one paw, shaking his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would wolfkin enforcers have killed your family? What could they possibly have done?"

"They didn't do anything!" she screamed, her voice crescendoing so violently that it made both of the vulkin jerk back in their seats. "All I know is that those mongrels wanted whatever was on the drive I was paid to open, and wanted to make sure anyone who'd seen it didn't talk about it. There must have been something there... something incriminating for them, or the Conclave, or..." Her voice trailed off and a heaving sob rattled her throat. She clenched a paw; slammed it into the table in frustration before digging her claws through her headfur. "I just don't know."

"You mean you don't know what was on the drive?" Seleena asked incredulously.

"As a rule, I don't look. Clients pay for privacy." Jett gave a defeated shrug. "Besides, what does it matter. Even if I knew, there's no evidence. The drive's long gone by now. You'd have to take my word for it." She took a deep, lung-raking breath and looked Bronco in the eye. "I know how crazy this all sounds. I do, but I swear by the Savage Fire and the Great Peace, it's true."

Bronco looked thoroughly uncomfortable. The big vulkin sank back into his chair, broad arms crossing slowly across his chest and his face pinching with thought. Jett could tell from the look on Seleena's face that the gold-furred female guard didn't believe her.

"We'll have to try and verify what you've said," the vulkin said quietly. "But I'm afraid with have conflicting evidence."

Jett's heart sank into her stomach. "What evidence?"

"After examining the scene of the crime we are confident that the perpetrators were felkin."

"You're what?!" Her eyes went wide. "How... how do you...?" She shook her head, mouth gaping open in disbelief. Felkin? Where in hellfangs had that come from?

"We went over your den, inch by inch," Bronco continued in a gentle voice. "We didn't find anything to suggest there were any wolfkin there, let alone enforcers."

"Well they...they must've cleaned up the scene!" Jett blurted desperately, feeling her grip on any possible salvation slipping away with every second. "I am telling you I know what happened!"

"Slow down, Jett-,"

"They just butchered my family!" she shrieked. "I'm not going to slow down! Felkin? Where in fangs did you pull that from?"

Bronco sat up at that, clearly fighting to hold his temper in check, his arms unfolding as he looked her in the eye. His companion snapped out a restraining paw, taking a firm grip of his forearm for a moment. A few seconds slipped past and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

"The physical evidence we've got so far puts a pack of felkin there," he said, speaking deliberately as though explaining to a child. "We've got patches of fur and blood that match, and the bolts we found at the scene match the home-made variety used by the felkin canal runners in the district. We need time to investigate and trace them. We need to know if you or your family were ever involved with the undermarket..."

"Those mangy skanks," she spat, speaking over him and shaking her head in disbelief, anger beginning to overwhelm her shock at the revelation. "It was the wolfkin. They planted that evidence for you to find. They tried to kill me and then they came here."

"There's no evidence-,"

"Evidence?" In a sudden motion she surged upright, sending the chair clattering over behind her. "Look at me!" She wrenched down the right shoulder of her body-wrap to show the bloody teeth marks left behind by the enforcer leader. "Does that look like a felkin, you stupid dog?" The word was out before she could stop it, anger obliterating any sense of social normality now. Her eyes blazed with a hate she didn't know she possessed as she continued. "It was those wolfkin! The same wolfkin that have been creeping around this district – the same wolfkin that murdered Tyr!"

The echo of her voice rang around the room as she stared them down, chest heaving. Her hackles were up, her muscles itching to throw something, to break and tear something to pieces, frustrated anger digging hooks into every inch of her body. But looking into Bronco's eyes she made the sinking realisation that there was nothing she could do. He was a guard who worked with what was in front of him. The wolfkin had thrown some evidence out and he'd swallowed it whole.

Her teeth gnashed together audibly and Seleena rose slowly from her seat, one paw on the grip of her truncheon.

"Jett," she said firmly, holding out her other paw placatingly. "You need to think about what you're doing. I understand that you're angry and you're upset, but we can't help you if you fight us. Please sit down."

There was an undertone of threat in the female vulkin's voice making it clear that, despite the mild language, she was giving Jett one chance to sit down willingly. She stood there for a few more seconds, her eyes flickering to Bronco. He gave her a small nod, his eyes pleading.

Eventually she let out a low growl of frustration and flopped back down into the chair, still smouldering with unrestrained rage. Several seconds yawned out in silence before them, the muffled hum of activity from the lawhouse bleeding softly through the walls.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Jett almost leapt out of her seat with fright, her heart hammering, but Bronco just said, "Come."

Thankfully when the door opened it revealed only another vulkin watchguard, a short, stocky male with bristly white fur and a flat snub of a snout. He poked his head around the door, scanning the occupants for a moment, his breath coming in loud huffs.

"This the foxkin girl from that business in the dens?" he grunted.

Bronco nodded. "What is it?"

"Bring her out – we got a hold-for-question request so park what you're doing."

"What?" Bronco's brow furrowed. "Who from? We've only had her here for a couple of hours."

The other vulkin shrugged and stuck a paw through the door clutching a sheet of barkpaper. "Dunno what to tell you, Bronc. They just gave me the orders. Now c'mon, before the pack-leader has my hide."

Seleena nudged Bronco with and elbow and stood, beckoning Jett to rise. "Let's go."

"What's going on?" Jett asked as she rose, her eyes flicking suspiciously from guard to guard. "Who am I being transferred to?"

Bronco snatched the barkpaper from the third guard and scanned in quickly. "North-Central Law? That's halfway across the district! What in fangs are they doing sticking their noses in this?"

The guard shrugged again. "Maybe it's a mistake – will you come on?"

Thrusting the paper back into his colleague's paw Bronco beckoned her forward. "It's alright, Jett. Must be some kind of admin screw up. We'll get this straightened out. Come on."

Reluctant, but with no real choice in the matter, Jett folded her arms tightly across her chest and fell into step behind the vulkin as they filed out of the interview room. They emerged into the ebb and flow of the lawhouse business, with watchguards tramping back and forth, some of them wrestling with less-than-willing residents of the lawhouse cells. Teeth gnashed and orders were barked, and criminals were roughly shown the error of their ways.

The dark ceramic blocks of the walls loomed in a slight angles, creating an imposing sensation, as though if you made one wrong move the building itself would flatten you. Jett kept her eyes firmly on Broncos back as she was led through the passages, making their way towards a stairwell that they'd led her up just a few hours previously.

They rounded the final bend for the stairway and a scent stung Jett's nostrils, making her flinch. Her mouth opened in confusion and her head snapped up, looking to where the chillingly familiar smell came from.

Standing down the hall at the head of the stairway, in animated conversation with a mahogany-furred pack-leader, were three wolfkin. Jett stopped dead, her whole body freezing up in terror as she stared at the black-armoured figures. Her chaperones carried on a few steps before they noticed and doubled back in confusion. Seleena cocked her head quizzically to one side.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You've got to get me out of here," Jett said in small voice, her eyes fixed on the wolfkin at the end of the hall.

"What?"

"The wolfkin – they're here for me. They're going to kill me." Jett shot Bronco a beseeching glance, her voice shrill with urgency. "Please! They'll tell you whatever story they like to get me out of your paws and into theirs. Then you'll never see me again."

Seleena looked pleadingly at her partner.

Bronco frowned, shaking his head. "Take it easy – it's alright. I'll talk to them. This case is under our jurisdiction and there's no reason for wolfkin or anyone else to stick their claws in it. It must be a mistake."

"You can't seriously think that? They found out you were holding me here and they've come to collect! Have you listened to anything I've said to you?"

"Of course I have but you need to put yourself in my shoes," he snapped, his muzzle crinkling with annoyance. "Right now your story doesn't stack up and the only evidence we have contradicts everything you've said. None of this adds up and it never will if you don't work with me!"

She bristled, her hackles rising again. "Bronco, am I under arrest?"

"What?"

"Are you charging me with anything?"

"Well... I don't-"

"If the answer is 'no' then I'm not staying here."

"Jett," he said quickly, stepping forward and putting a gentle paw on her shoulder. "Please, you have got to trust me. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you while you're in our custody, I promise. I just want to get to the bottom of this."

Looking into his eyes she knew he meant it. Earnest old Bronco, as decent a watchguard as you could find – honest and trusting in the system.

And that made him useless to her. She looked over his shoulder and saw that one of the wolfkin had spotted the commotion, tapping his comrades and pointing in her direction.

"You can't keep that promise, Bronco," she said hoarsely, her muscles tensing as her survival instincts kicked in. "I'm sorry."

"What-,"

Before he could utter another syllable Jett shoved him hard into the third vulkin, ripping his heavy truncheon from its sheath as he tripped and crashed into his comrade with a yelp of surprise. The weapon was oversized and heavy in her grip but she swung anyway, twisting to her right and smacking Seleena in the stomach before she could react. The stunned watchguard doubled over, spluttering for breath and in a heartbeat Jett was off and running.

Barks and shouts of surprise erupted around her as she flew through the corridors of the lawhouse, knowing that if she didn't escape now, she never would.

"Jett, no!"

She ignored Bronco's desperate holler, hearing the sting of pain in the vulkin's voice. He really did think he was trying to help her. In his mind she'd signed her own death warrant.

Trouble was, she knew she'd done that the instant she'd accepted the job from the felkin. But if she was going to die she was damn well going to know why. That meant this story couldn't end – not here and not now.

She clattered around the nearest corner, trying to recall the layout of the floor from what she'd gleaned being brought in. One thing she knew for certain was that windows on the eastern side looked out onto the street below.

Jett gritted her teeth. She could do it. She had to.

Jinking around a stunned guard and equally stunned prisoner, she pelted through the passages of the lawhouse, confused shouts echoing after her. She ignored them, a fresh surge of terrified adrenaline coursing through her veins as she ran. One guard made a clumsy grab at her but she twisted aside, forcing him back with a sweep of the truncheon and barely breaking stride.

A left turn brought daylight. Jett accidentally crashed into a female administrator, flattening the unfortunate vulkin and sending barkpaper flying in all directions. She stumbled but put a paw out to brace against the floor, keeping her feet as the worker unleashed a breathless tirade of expletives.

Jett only had eyes for the window at the far end of the hallway. She bolted over to it, skidding to a halt to check that it did indeed go where she needed it to. Looking out, she saw the rise of the lawhouse fence not far below, and down at street level a steady trickle of