Page 81 of Sight of Fate

Teague and I both take a deep breath. I narrow my eyes at him. “Could you feel him? Through me.”

“Sort of,” he replies, cupping the back of his neck. “What you feel, I feel.”

That will be interesting.

Teague turns toward me. “This is why you’re always pulling up your collar, covering yourself from neck to waist.” His chest rises and falls as he stares at me, but not once do I get more than the tiniest glimpse of his rage, only the reassurance that my scars don’t matter to them.

I smile. “I hear you, but it’s going to take time.”

Macklin turns. “This is why the word witch triggers you, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yes. Every time I hear someone call me a witch, Hank’s voice echoes in my ears.”

Teague picks up another article and reads the title. “Car Accident Claims Anna Wittington.” They both turn to me. “I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident?”

“I could never prove it, but she died three weeks before the trial,” I murmur, staring down at my hands.

Teague stands and pulls me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He draws back. “You rarely speak about her, but I’d love to know more.”

I grip the sides of his shirt and bury my nose in his neck for a brief minute. “Thank you.”

Another big body joins the two of us, murmuring sorry and hugging both of us, and I smile. After a minute, they return to the sofa.

They skim through the rest. Several more articles about the trial. Hank’s conviction. They both protest loudly when they read that the jury dismissed attempted murder but convicted him of child abuse. Then a final article which makes me tense.

Teague skims it, then, with a clipped voice, summarizes it for Macklin. “Dated two years ago, when Audrey was in college at the University of Tennessee. ‘College Student Slain in Brutal Attack.’ Cara Nelson, Charli’s roommate, was stabbed to death. The article says random attack, but thirty-seven times isn’t random. It’s personal. They suspected Cara’s boyfriend and Charli, but they both had solid alibis.” He takes a deep breath. “Susan attached a note to the article saying Hank was released two days before Cara died, and Audrey disappeared after graduation.”

“How the hell did he get out so quickly? He served…what…five out of the ten years!” Macklin roars, his fists clenched against his thighs.

“Most prisoners are eligible for parole starting at thirty percent time served,” I answer dully, having researched it. “Hank got his chance when he served fifty percent. My guess is his family money made sure they approved his release.”

“Pathetic. The system is corrupt,” Teague interjects with a disgusted expression. “That’s when you went on the run, isn’t it? Have you been living out of your car for the past two years?”

“It was the only way to stay off his radar. He hired private investigators and hackers to try to find me. But I had a secret weapon,” I tell them. Teague raises an eyebrow. “Whenever he was near, I’d get a vision of the night he burned me. Sounds gruesome, but it worked. Kept me ahead of him.”

“Tell us about Hank,” Macklin orders, a pen and paper in his hand.

“He’s human. Around six feet. Slim. From Nashville but moved to Columbia when he met my mom. Can trace his family tree to an aristocratic British peerage. He’s obscenely wealthy. It’s generational. Up until the incident, he was the best stepfather. Went to all my school and sports events. Loved my mom and me. Spoiled us rotten.” It’s sad when you think of it. We had the perfect life until it was ruined by a vision and the madness that took over him.

Teague looks at me. “How do you want us to deal with him? Are we good to eliminate him entirely?”

“I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life,” I tell him, tired of giving Hank the grace he never gave me or my mom or Cara. “He killed my mother and Cara. The punishment should fit the crime.”

An expression of satisfaction crosses both their faces

Then, I remember what drove me to accept the job in Greystone. “There’s a video.” I quickly explain what he did. “Won’t they think I did it?”

Teague sighs. “Macklin, contact Kinji. Have him set up surveillance on Hank. I want to know everything about him down to his fucking shoe size. Then fly out tomorrow, meet up with him, and figure out the most believable accident that won’t implicate Charli.”

“Sunday,” Macklin inserts. “Tomorrow night we’re going to the Wolf’s Den. Charli received a special invitation to join the clan in welcoming Leif’s daughter.”

A muscle tics in Teague’s jaw. “Are you going to be okay being around wolves?”

I didn’t think about that part, but I lift a nonchalant shoulder to try to put him at ease. “Maybe you two should stick close. Just in case.”

“Count on it,” Teague mutters, sharing a look with Macklin before he turns back to me. “Are you good with our plan?”

“I am. But tell your guy to be careful. Hank may be human, but he’s smart and wealthy. And completely insane. He doesn’t think like everyone else,” I caution them.