Izzy twists so one eye can peer at my face. “He’s my mate too.”
I take a moment to process her confession. I’ve never heard of lone wolves having mates before, but then again, I suppose it’s not impossible. Just because Christian doesn’t have a pack mark doesn’t mean he never received a mate one.
An indecipherable emotion claws at the inside of my chest. It takes me a solid second to realize it’s fear.
If Christian is her mate, and he goes feral, what will happen to Izzy?
“We’ll figure it out, Gracie,” Grayson says, tugging Izzy farther against his chest and rubbing her back. “All of this. Our relationships. Your powers. Your family. These attacks.”
“We’re yours,” I confirm. “I’myours.”
Even if you’re not mine.
Izzy opens her mouth to respond when a heavy thump sounds from right outside the door. All three of us instantly tense.
Then, as one, we jump from the bed and grab our clothes. I throw on the pair of jeans I borrowed, while Grayson slips his own on. Izzy simply grabs the Henley I wore earlier and shoves it over her head, leaving her legs deliciously bare.
“Stay here,” Grayson snaps at Izzy, stalking towards the door.
Izzy gives him a droll look. “Really? When has that ever worked on me?”
She arches an eyebrow, and Grayson rolls his eyes before shooting me a pointed look. I nod and move to stand beside Izzy, prepared to grab her and pull her away if we’re under attack.
Grayson tenses and slowly pulls open the door…
We all freeze when we see the body lying on the ground.
I don’t recognize the warlock, but he appears to be in his mid-thirties with messy brown hair, a disheveled beard, and the beginnings of a beer belly. Blood covers the majority of his body, seeping out of the ragged marks on his chest and stomach.
Marks that look awfully like…werewolf claws.
What the fuck?
Grayson glances in both directions, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the hall with us.
Who is this man? And who—or what—killed him?
Is the attacker still around?
I suddenly want to pull Izzy back, lock the door, and make sure no harm can come to her.
“Is he okay?” Izzy asks, blinking.
Grayson crouches beside the stranger. “Is it normal for him to lie like that without moving, speaking, blinking, or breathing?”
“Um…”
“What the fuck happened here?” Soraya storms down the hallway, her gaze intent on the man at our feet.
“It wasn’t us!” I blurt quickly, realizing how this would look to her.
It would be less obvious if I held up a sign that readGUILTYin bright-red color.
Soraya shoots me an annoyed look. “Of course it wasn’t you. But we need to get rid of the body, and quickly, before you three are tried and arrested for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Twenty-Seven
ASHTON
