Somber pack members congregated outside of Dalton’s Meats off Double Trouble Road. The men and women’s morose expressions and lowered shoulders didn’t lift as Thorn, Will, Farley, and I showed up.

  I spotted my dad among them, and my stomach sank. That wasn’t a good sign.

  For a private pack matter like this, no one called the police or an ambulance—which meant we’d settle the matter in-house, too.

  With a sigh, I took in the meat market I’d entered countless times as a kid. Frank Dalton owned the place and delivered anything my family needed. Most of the grocery stores in town sold meat, but if you wanted larger portions, you bought your slabs from Frank and his two daughters. I swallowed deeply, not wanting to know yet who’d died. I grew up with Bella and Francine. Those girls had loved ones, too.

  I respectfully nodded to my father and the other pack members. Farley was the last of us to join the group. He limped up with a growing frown.

  “Evening, Farley,” Dad called out to him.

  “I wish I could say it was a good evening, Fyodor,” Farley replied quietly.

  Everyone turned toward the butcher shop. Might as well get down to business.

  “Who died?” Thorn asked gently.

  “It was Francine.” Dad stared down at his clasped hands. “When she didn’t come home from work, her husband called Frank to check the shop.” He gestured for us to follow him inside. Within two steps I caught the telltale hints of death hidden underneath the coppery scent of butchered meat.

  My heart clenched.

  All this trouble had occurred as Francine closed up the storefront. Cuts of meat were still arranged in the refrigerated display, and the OPEN sign flashed on and off.

  “This wasn’t a robbery,” I said.

  “Yeah, the piece of trash who did this didn’t want money,” Farley said stiffly.

  Thorn looked to Will, then the older brother glanced at the sign. With an unspoken word between brothers, Will turned off the OPEN sign.

  “Where’s Frank?” Thorn asked. “No one left him alone, did they?”

  “Rex took him out for a drive,” Dad explained. “Frank wanted to hunt for his daughter’s killer, so it was best for him not to stay here.”

  Dread soured my stomach as we marched around the meat display counter to an open door that led to the back office and freezer. Cool air from the freezer fanned my face.

  Slowly, we entered single file into the chilled room. The well-lit space was organized with pork and beef slabs hung from hooks in one corner, while in another corner the Dalton family had set up a counter to package and seal their products.

  What was left of poor Francine Dalton lay sprawled in the middle of the room. The dark-haired woman’s neck was bent at an odd angle and her vacant gray eyes stared upward. Her attacker had slashed her open, spreading blood across the cement floor. Paw prints peppered the floor around her.

  I bit my lower lip to keep myself from cursing.

  “What did this?” Thorn asked bitterly.

  “An animal that’s strong like us, with large claws and teeth,” Dad replied.

  I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to take note of any information I could use to find Francine’s killer. In particular, I spotted bloody prints on the floor. They led to the open door to the loading dock.

  “There are bloody paw prints only around the body, and their path heads out the door,” I said. “I didn’t see any in the front.”

  “Which means the fight took place here,” Farley said with a nod. “She discovered her attackers, and they took her down somehow.”

  Dad’s sharp eyes swept over the room. “See how Francine’s neck is snapped. There’s no bite marks—which means the biped creature we’re searching for helped the animal subdue her.”

  “What kind of hit would break a wolf’s neck?” Will asked.

  The heavy clang of a weapon hitting the goblin shield reverberated through me. “The hit came from the blunt end of a weapon, and the wielder was very strong,” I murmured. “I’m certain only a shield could withstand that kind of hit.”

  The goblin shield did reveal a clue I hadn’t thought about until now: the spikes were on fire.

  “Whatever it is,” I added, “it’s susceptible to fire. Mademoiselle Midnight said someone stole another artifact to protect it from heat.”

  “We need to find them,” Thorn said bitterly.

  “Yes, we do, but how?” I asked.

  That question circled the room, but no one had any answers.

  Will finally spoke up. “What I want to know is: why did they come here?”

  Good question.

  “Look at those slabs of beef, boy.” Farley pointed. “I bet my shitty knee they came to feed the animal.”

  At first, I thought Frank had sheared the meat off the slabs, but as Farley mentioned, hunks were torn off. So not only did we have murderers on our hands, but one of them needed to eat raw meat. As much as I’d hoped my attackers returned to New York to fight Lisbetta, I wanted them to stick around so we could hunt them down.

  No one said a word as Thorn and Will draped a tarp over Francine. Dad murmured a prayer for her safe passage while Farley fumed.

  “Not a single drop of their blood on the floor,” Thorn’s father grumbled, his voice rising with anger. “What a waste of a good woman. She was a strong girl…better than most.” Briefly, he glared at me, and I turned away. No one caught the jab he’d made at me, and as much as I wanted to call him out, now wasn’t the time for us to butt heads.

  “What do we do now?” Will asked.

  All eyes turned to Thorn.

  “We fight back.” Thorn’s hardened gaze never left the tarp. “This is our territory. If they want to face the pack’s fury, we’ll oblige them.”

  We didn’t return home until long after midnight. Thorn and I waited with Francine’s family to make the final arrangements. Pack members connected with the local police department would handle her disappearance. From now on, the pack would whisper Francine’s name with reverence and pain.

  We’d also have to bury her later this week.

  The idea Francine died, that someone I saw a couple times a week when I shopped there was gone, knocked me off-kilter. The pack hunted and battled together. Sometimes our brothers and sisters didn’t make it home, but those deaths were few and far between.

  The silent car ride home led to a silent household. Will collapsed onto the couch while Farley slipped into his room and shut the door.

  Thorn and I took our time, going through the motions of securing the house and turning off the lights. As we settled into bed, I should’ve fallen asleep immediately, but I couldn’t shake the flash of resentment in Farley’s eyes.

  “What a waste of a good woman,” he’d said. “She was a strong girl…better than most.”

  Would he have said those same words if I’d passed away? I didn’t believe so, based on our history.

  I rested my head against Thorn’s shoulder and held him tight. The world should’ve righted itself as we rested chest to chest and heart to heart in our bed, but I was cast adrift again.

  “You okay?” he murmured against my forehead. “Everything’s fucked up right now, but we’ll get through this together.”

  “It’s more than the mess outside.” I pointed to my heart. “It’s this that hurts.”

  I drew a deep breath before I spoke again. “Do you remember the night Farley wanted me to leave South Toms River for good? It was not long after the Long Island werewolves threatened to take over.”

  Thorn nodded. “I remember.”

  “I felt incredibly lost that night.” My voice grew thick, but I forced myself to keep going. “I need to be strong right now, but I can’t help but feel useless.”

  Thorn stilled. “Has my father said anything to you recently? If he’s crossed the line, I’ll take him to a motel. I mean it, babe.”

  I shook my head. “Kicking him out of the house won’t solve the problem,” I whispered. “He’ll always be the former pack leader and your father. His words will always carry weight.”

  “His words carry weight if you let them,” Thorn said. “The past will always be there. You should focus on this moment. Right here. Right now.”

  As hard as I tried to settle into the warmth of the here and now, the weight of Farley’s words remained. Thorn cradled my face in his large hand to offer comfort, but I couldn’t escape falling into the memories of that horrible night. I tried to conjure spry jackrabbits and juicy squirrels giving me chase, but the cabin’s great room and Farley’s dominating presence crept in. I was back in that room with Farley in his chair and me perched on his couch.

  The words he’d said that night bounced off the walls.

  “I told you the weakest link brings down the pack,” Farley had said. “But you didn’t listen. Not surprised, though. You’re like your grandmother in that regard. I can see you don’t hold the pack’s safety before your own.”

  I wanted to wake up, but the dream had me in its icy grip. I had to witness Farley’s rejection again.

  “Since you are a liability to the safety of the pack,” he said firmly, “I have no choice but to force you to leave our territory.”

  The former pack leader didn’t blink as he added, “If the Long Island and Burlington werewolf packs are not driven off within that time, you must leave—or the pack will mark you for execution.” His gaze burrowed into mine. It was a split second too long before I glanced down. “I will execute you myself if necessary.”

  A cold sweat formed on my brow from the memory as I returned to the present and shivered in my bed.

  Less than a year ago, my father-in-law was willing to kill me for the good of the pack.

  He was willing to cast me out to keep me away from his son.

  But like Thorn told me, the past was the past. The world had changed for the better since that night. The pack drove our rivals away, but Farley and I had never addressed his feelings for me. All this time, he still believed I wasn’t good enough for the pack or his son.

  “I’m not stupid, girl,” he’d also said that night. “I can see the way my boy looks at you. You’re more than a liability to the pack. You’re a liability to him as well.” He snorted out the word him. “I can’t believe he tried to defend you. Defend what you are. A bunch of words about what you’ve done in the past won’t help us now. We’re vulnerable, and we don’t need your kind around here.”

  As Thorn held me like he’d never let me go, I considered the kind of woman I’d become since that night. How I’d stood up and fought when others retreated. How I’d sacrificed myself while others hid away.

  But Farley and I still had work to do. One of us had to step over the gulf and build the bridge. As much as I didn’t want to remember the pain or put in the work, I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do for both of us.

  Chapter 16

  Today, I woke up refreshed and ready to act instead of reacting. I’d licked my wounds, and now I had work to do. As the pack’s alpha female, I had to reach out to the Dalton family and volunteer to help with any final preparations. Other pack members might need emotional support, too.

  From the privacy of my bedroom, I made the phone calls in a thankfully quiet home. After I reached out to Francine’s husband, I plodded out to the kitchen to find Farley nursing a cup of black coffee at the kitchen table.

  The present I’d boxed up with a bright red ribbon sat on the counter on top of my Christmas cookbooks. I’d paid a pretty penny for that thing. Did he even deserve it after what happened last night?

  I went through the motions of preparing a cup of tea, unsure what to say. As much as I wanted to escape the house, I was determined to see things through. Dr. Frank had given me this assignment for a reason.

  Build a bridge over the gulf, Nat.

  “You hungry?” I finally asked.

  Step one achieved: civility.

  He slowly shook his head. We didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, and I wondered if he didn’t want to talk to me.

  Then, out of nowhere, Farley broke the silence. “Damn shame what happened to Francine Dalton.”

  “Yes, it is.” I waited for him to add more about me.

  “Whatever killed her will kill again.”

  I nodded. We at least agreed on that.

  “Has Thorn warned the pack to keep an eye on the pups?” he asked.

  “Yes, all children must go directly home from school, and any pack-owned stores are on alert.”

  His wrinkled face grew pensive. “That’s good.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. Steam no longer rose from the cup. How could he drink it cold?

  I forced myself to use the moment to pick up his cup. He protested until he noticed I placed the cup in the microwave. Twenty seconds later, I delivered his hot coffee and the present.

  “What’s this?” he grunted.

  “A gift.”

  “I can see that. Why?”

  Damn, I hadn’t prepared myself for that question. “You lost your house, so I thought it would be nice for you to have something new.”

  Farley stared at the box for a bit.

  “It’s not a glitter bomb,” I added dryly.

  Reluctantly, he untied the ribbon and removed the top. Carefully, he withdrew the Colt Navy Revolver. I held my breath for his reaction.

  Not a single muscle twitched on his face. No frown. No grimace. Not even a half-assed smile.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” he said. “You remember the Code, don’t you?”

  I tried to smile, and my face broke. Most folks at least tried to say thanks first. “Yes, werewolves shouldn’t own or use firearms, but this is a collector’s piece.” My voice picked up as I gave the weapon’s background. “We could have it arranged in a custom frame at your new house.”

  Farley’s Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times, but his face showed indifference. He palmed the gun, turning it over twice, but didn’t show genuine interest. “Looks nice.”

  My gesture had crashed and burned.

  Well, that hurt, but then again, bridges weren’t built in a day.

  “Thanks,” he added, then put the gun back into the box.

  An awkward silence swept into the kitchen, and I stood there trying to keep my frustration at bay.

  Step two: maintain the civility.

  To distract myself, I started wiping off the counter—which was already clean, mind you. In the middle of mopping the floors, I was surprised to hear Farley address me from the other side of the room.

  “I need to borrow your car this morning,” he mumbled. “Is that possible?”

  He could’ve demanded to use it, but the request made me pause. “Sure. Do you need me to pick up something for you, so you don’t have to walk far?”

  Farley shook his head as his stomach growled. So, he hadn’t eaten. “I need to go pay my respects to the Daltons. Maybe I’ll check out a few apartments, too.”

  “Not a problem. I planned to work this morning, anyway. I can take you wherever you need to go, but you should eat first.” I opened the fridge and fetched the ingredients to make waffles.

  I almost dropped the carton of eggs when Farley gruffly said, “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  My gaze jumped from the gift to the man sitting at the table.

  Step three: never give up the good fight.

  Farley hadn’t accepted my gift with an open heart, but something else happened this morning. I hid a smile and whistled while I started cooking.

  Instead of taking my father-in-law to Francine Dalton’s home, Farley dropped me off at The Bends. I hadn’t seen him drive in a long time. Hopefully, the car helped him today.

  It wasn’t like I had any elaborate plans. I could escape to the city and search, but I couldn’t do it alone, so I came here to scratch an itch. The Bends served as the perfect distraction. Normal people would’ve stayed home and slept in, but I marched into the thrift store ready to lose myself in furniture polish, irate customers, and a stubborn boss.

  I’d picked the perfect morning, too. A tour bus full of senior shoppers pulled into the parking lot. Inside the store, a minotaur couple, two brownies, and Valkyrie browsed. Not long after I entered, the human deluge followed. The humans chirped, gawked, and admired our Victorian furniture while the minotaur couple ambled up to the registers to purchase an enchanted collection of brass bull nose rings.

  This chaos is better than therapy, I thought.

  I took my time to tidy the fallen magical capes the brownies rifled through and line up the Haunted Heather figurines. Right on cue, the porcelain figures moaned when I shifted them to the right place.

  All was almost right with the world until I noticed a large line forming for the checkout. Naturally, Bill was nowhere to be found, and I’d yet to see him manning the registers during the larger summer crowds.

  I searched for our fastest cashier, and the fire witch had disappeared too. Probably lighting up another cigarette on the loading dock. At least she hadn’t set fire to the place while I was away. I abandoned my current task and jumped into the fray. How I missed this part. I reveled in the delightful clicking sounds of the keys on the registers. The beepity beeps from the credit card machines as sales went through. Those noises sounded just as good as the times when I bought something.

  Once I got the line down to a single man trying to purchase an antique kite from the 1860s, I escaped to the back office for a drink. Of course, I found good ole Bill with his feet propped up and his eyes on his cell phone.

  I had a seat at a computer station and checked my text messages. Aggie had sent me two funny YouTube videos. And I’d gotten a message from Farley, too: Thorn will pick you up tonight.

  I reread the message and checked to see if I’d mistaken the sender. Nope, he’d really sent me a message.

  I tried not to think about why he needed my car all day, but then again, if Farley planned to check out a couple of apartments, he’d need it. And, well, he didn’t seem like the type to go drag racing and such.

  I tried to dive back into cataloguing new products, but after Farley’s text, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened this morning. The gift hadn’t gone over well, but I was determined to try again. Briefly, I picked up my phone to find the picture I’d taken of the figurine from the Grantham cabin. With that image in hand, I scoured the Internet and the catalogues we owned, but I didn’t find anything. Did that mean it was homemade?

 

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