Page 59 of Pack End Game

She gives us all a too-innocent smile that says it all.

That's not the face of a woman hearing about a murder for the first time.

"Seriously?" Spencer crosses his arms over his chest.

Just because we haven't marked her yet doesn't mean Spencer will take kindly to being kept in the dark. He's a stickler for wanting to know all the information all the time.

"What?" She twirls the length of her high ponytail around her hand, the gesture both cute and saucy. "There hasn't been a crime committed here in four years. Do you know how much bad energy might have dissipated between then and now? We owe it to ourselves to consider all of our best options, so we shouldn't judge until we know if the house has any residual weird vibes."

Spencer makes a strangled noise. "You got us here under false pretenses."

"I got you here under real estate pretenses," she corrects quickly. "Lots of people could have died in those other houses, and we just don't know about them."

Freddie groans. "Do you know what houses don't have a body count? New builds. How long exactly does bad energy take to go away? Maybe you should try taking a look at our house again."

As if he wasn't the first one to jump on the bandwagon of hating our current home just six days ago.

"Even without the bad energy, your house would have no personality of its own," Mia grumbles half under her breath.

"Counterpoint." Freddie lifts a finger like he's moderating a formal debate. "If we don't tour the murder house, we'll always wonder if it was the one that got away."

"I won't," Spencer mutters.

Freddie doesn't seem to have any idea which side of this argument to lean into. He probably should mention to Mia at some point that he's absolutely terrified of ghosts. We tried to take him on a Halloween date shortly after the three of us first got together, and he got so scared by a woman dressed up as a ghostly bride that he broke a window out to escape the haunted house.

I appreciate his attempt to be a good sport.

Mia stomps her foot on the deck, her petulance so cute that I duck my head to hide a smile.

Rufus claps his hands together and tries to regain control of the situation. "Because of the history, this place is priced to sell, and the current owners are open to closing as soon as possible. There have been extensive renovations since the... incident. There are a lot of features here you all are interested in, and as a bonus, there are absolutely no smart home features in sight."

"Everything sounds great so far," Mia says. After an uncomfortable pause, she hastily adds, "Besides the murder thing. That obviously doesn't sound good. That part sounds bad. Should we go in now?"

"Of course. I've already unlocked the front door for us, so after you." He makes a show of politely gesturing for Mia to go first. Even if I were on board with this house up until this point, his reluctance to be the first to enter would seal the deal for me that this is not the house for us.

Mia doesn't think twice before reaching for the front door, and the pack has no choice but to hurry into place right behind her because no way in hell are we letting her enter a murder house alone.

The front door opens with an ordinary little click, which feels misleading. A house like this should at least have a door that groans ominously upon entry. Able to see easily over Mia's head, I take in the sight of the foyer. The space is bright and clean with fresh paint, polished wood floors, and a grand staircase that rounds to the second floor.

The place doesn't immediately scream murder house.

Until Rufus tries to helpfully let us know, "The incident took place near the base of the staircase. Everything was professionally cleaned by specialists, and the flooring and sub-floors have been fully replaced across the whole main floor."

Mia barely finishes letting him speak before she takes one step over the threshold into the house.

Stops.

Shivers.

Every instinct in me goes feral.

Spencer swears under his breath as another house in our search bites the dust. Freddie grabs a fistful of my shirt for comfort as he squeezes between Spencer and me for protection.

Slowly, Mia turns toward us.

Her expression is blank.

Too blank.