30. Ryan

Iplaced Mai's laptop on the desk, then turned and surveyed the room. Her clothes were either hung up in the chestnut closet or folded into the drawers of the mahogany dresser by the far wall. I'd moved the books that I'd put in her room at Jem's house. She'd liked them when she was younger, and I thought she might find them comforting. I was going to have to find out what books she liked now.

Mai had brought a couple of trinkets, and those I'd placed on the chest next to the bed: a glass paperweight with purple swirls inside, a photo of Mai, Jem, and their parents down at the Westcove beach, and a framed golden eagle feather. I knew what feather it was because I'd given it to her five years ago. I'd gone north for a couple of weeks on a mission for Oliver, meeting the Dresden Pack and trying to get their agreement to buy weapons from us rather than the human gangs.

It had turned messy, and I barely got out of there alive, which I was fairly sure had been Oliver's plan all along. I'd had to hide out in Creek Forest for a couple of days, and for the entire time I was there, I'd been followed by a lone golden eagle. Always high above, swooping on the air currents, but I could feel it tracking me.

On the final day, just before I'd found a road out of there, I'd turned a corner, and the eagle had been sitting on a branch in the tree in front of me. It had stared at me for a long minute, ruffled its wings, then it took off. On the ground, I'd found a feather. As soon as I got home, I'd given it to Mai as a gift. I'd known she was my mate by then, and it just felt right to give it to her. I hadn't thought about that feather in years, but Mai had kept it. Framed it, even.

I'd felt it in our mate bond when she left Jem's house. I'd watched her get into her car and drive off. I'd been scared that she was running again, but she hadn't taken any of her things with her. Tracking her through our bond was easy now that it was sealed. I wondered if she knew I could do that and that she could, too. It would only work on Pack territory, but I felt something ease inside of me, knowing that I could find her now, no matter where she went in the Three Rivers. Maybe it was best if I didn't mention it just yet. No, I had to ease her into this fated mates thing before she got too spooked and took off.

Right now, I knew she was at Bottley's. Probably talking to Sofia and telling her what an asshole I was. She needed a friend to talk to, and I was really glad that Sofia was around and could be there for Mai. She was going to need Sofia when she realized that I'd moved all her stuff into the spare room at our house. I'd thought about putting it all in my room, but I figured that was a step too far right now. My wolf wasn't happy. He wanted her in our bed, wanted her scent on everything we owned. But we needed to take this one step at a time.

My phone buzzed. Mason.

He's heading to you. You need to ask Mai what she told him about the Pack. If we don't catch him, he'll be there tomorrow.

Fuck! Mason was right; I'd needed to talk to Mai. We needed to know what Seth knew. What would he be expecting if he got here before Mason and Sam found him? We had to make sure he was in for a surprise. My phone buzzed again. Jem this time.

You got a minute?

I took one last look around the room, then headed across the street to Jem's house. He was waiting by the door with Derek, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" I asked.

"My asset in the Bridgetown Pack came through." Derek drew a hand over his head. "It's bad."

"Come through to the study," Jem ordered, leading the way.

I followed them, and we all sat down around Jem's desk.

"According to my asset in the Pack, they are recruiting for an army. Michael and Camile are going to make a move on us soon. Perhaps even before the end of the year. They claim it's pre-emptive. That we're a danger to their Pack."

"What?" That didn't make any sense.

"I'm trying to get more intel. My asset is in a delicate situation. Something came up before I could get more out of them."

"Push the asset, Derek. We need to know now," Jem ordered.

I leaned back in my chair, thinking. "Even if your asset is right, Michael and Camile would be crazy to come at us. We are well-defended. We might not have the numbers on our side anymore, not since he's been recruiting so heavily, but all our enforcers are highly trained. They'd suffer huge losses. Plus, the humans would get involved. This would be too big of a war for them not to notice. That means the Wolf Council would step in. A war between Packs? When the casualty rates of humans would be high? They won't accept that."

"Not if Bridgetown can prove that they were provoked. Or they can say we are a rogue Pack that can't be controlled, and they had to step in. The Wolf Council would back them." Derek pulled out a file folder, tossing it onto the table in front of us. "Two humans from Bridgetown were found dead this morning," he said, his voice low. "Someone ripped out their throats."

My stomach dropped. Werewolves attacking humans was something we all avoided. We needed the humans on our side, needed them to believe we were tame, harmless. We couldn't afford a war between humans and werewolves. We were stronger, faster, more brutal, but they outnumbered us a hundred times over. "Any idea who did it?" I asked, taking the file and looking over the photos.

Two bodies, both male, lay in their own blood in the middle of a road, their throats exposed to the bone. Muscle and sinew dangled from the massive gashes, wolf teeth marks marring their skin around the bites. The victims were young, barely out of their teens, and their dead, vacant eyes stared out of the photo at me.

Derek shook his head. "A witness identified Carson Hodges running away from the scene."

Carson was one of our enforcers. He was older, probably in his late fifties, and his weathered face bore the marks of time. He was more comfortable on the periphery of the Pack than in the middle of it. He was a good enforcer, observant but didn't crave the spotlight or push himself to the frontlines unless he was needed. His presence was always reliable, and he liked to train the new enforcers. He was the steady heartbeat beneath the often hectic and chaotic lives of the trainees, molding them into a fighting force with his calm manner and strict regimes.

Carson kept his own company, more by choice than circumstance, shunning Pack gatherings unless his role as an enforcer required it. But I had never taken him for a violent man. He was reliable in fights, never letting the adrenaline go to his head, never getting carried away or going too far. He did what needed to be done, not because he enjoyed it but because the Pack demanded it. That's what made him an excellent trainer.

I tapped my finger on the photos. "Where is this?"

"It's at the north end of Dunlavey Road."

"That's what? About a mile from the boundary line between us and the Bridgetown Pack and three miles from Carson's cabin?"

Derek nodded.

"Have you talked to Carson yet?" I asked, my mind whirling with questions and worst-case scenarios.

"I spoke to him before I came over," he said, his voice steady but the worry evident in his eyes. "He swears he didn't commit the murders."

"Does he have an alibi?"

"He claims he was doing some solitary hunting. He says he didn't cross into Bridgetown's land."

"And no one can vouch for him?"

"He was alone the whole time. You know how he likes to go up there to relax. He didn't see or scent anyone else."

An uneasy silence fell over us. Jem turned to me, his gaze probing. "Thoughts, Ryan?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Either we've badly misjudged Carson, and we've got a murderer among us," I started, "or this is a setup. Michael and Camile might be using Carson as a pawn to stir up trouble and give Bridgetown an excuse to invade."

Neither scenario sat well with me. We were a family, and the thought of Carson doing this stung more than any outside attack. But if it was Michael and Camile, it meant we had a much bigger problem on our hands.