Patricia ‘Patty’ Helsing was bent over the desk in her club office. She’d watched the interaction outside the club, but hadn’t gone out. Abe would handle it. He’d blossomed into the leader his father always expected him to be, his cut looking so damn right on him that it might as well be a second skin. She only wished Abe Senior was around to see his son. He’d been killed on a hunt though, five years ago come Saturday.