Page 2 of Crimson Moon Falling

Bennion scoffed, but Freda nodded. “Put our bags in the back while you’re at it.”

Even from ten feet away, his anger hit me. I ignored him and opened the back hatch for the hellhounds, then climbed into the passenger seat.

Freda glanced at me as she started the vehicle. “Tell me what the text said.” Her mouth tightened as I recited it. “It’s Marlowe, isn’t it?”

Exhaling, I stared at the snow-capped mountain range in the distance. “Yes. Right before they branded me, he told me he was going to make me his pet.” Bennion’s confused revulsion hit me, and shame crawled up my throat. Bennion hadn’t been privy to most of what happened to me in Roswell. The implant hummed, and the feeling dissipated.

Freda pulled out her phone. “We need to tell Conall immediately.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” she growled. “Riley, that man has a dangerous fixation on you.”

“Telling Conall won’t help anyone. He’s heading to Washington to keep a war from breaking out with Apex Mentis.” I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the coarse texture of the white strands. “If Conall finds out, he’ll either want me pulled off this case or come rushing here himself. That doesn’t help anyone.”

Bennion shifted. “The Alpha has a right to know.”

I rounded on him. “Are you saying you can’t protect me? And know what exactly? That someone sent me a text? Marlowe is playing with me and trying to get in my head. If I let him disrupt Conall’s mission and this investigation, he wins. Drew said the Feds are trying to pass more anti-shifter laws and stirring up all kinds of anti-supernatural sentiment. That’s more important.” Drew was the Pack’s tech specialist and Strategist, and I knew he’d agree with me.

Freda’s nostrils flared. “Conall can handle them, even from Wyoming. And you may not survive falling into that bastard’s hands again.”

“Which is why you two are here. Let me do my job, and you do yours. Keep me safe while Gunnar and I find Viggo Johansen.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “But you don’t leave our sight except to use the bathroom, and if there's any sign of Marlowe in the flesh, we’re calling the Alpha and getting you out.”

It was a better deal than I’d expected. “Fair enough.”

Freda stared at me, thoughts shifting behind her eyes. “You can’t let him take you again. I know what he did to you, and I saw the videos of you being carried out in Roswell.”

Bennion watched us from the backseat, but for once he stayed silent.

Coldness seeped through me. Freda wasn’t wrong about Marlowe. My mother was a mid-level Inamoratist, and when she consciously directed her energy, men tended to give her whatever she wanted. She also had a few stalkers over the years.

Bennion grimaced. “Just don’t die on my shift.”

“I’ve got a troll for a partner, you as bodyguards, and a healthy stash of weapons, thanks to Jamie and Parker. I’ll be fine.”

Freda’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve had some kind of injury since I met you. It stops today.”

She wasn’t wrong, but the worst scars I carried weren’t physical. I thought I knew what pain and helplessness felt like, but my time in Marlowe’s care showed me that sometimes death was preferable. The device his team had surgically implanted in my brainstem pulsed cold logic through me. I had a park ranger to find and my father’s disappearance to investigate, and I needed to stay alive to do it.

We pulled into the Old Faithful historic district of Yellowstone National Park. The small ranger station stood behind the majestic Old Faithful Inn, a magnificent wood-and-stone building with a distinctive 1930s parkitecture style.

The geysers were quiet now, but tourists walked the wooden pathways, waiting to view an eruption. The area was a vast expanse of forest and geothermal wonder, surrounded by snowy mountain peaks.

Freda parked, and we headed to the station. I squinted to make out a massive silhouette on the porch when a rumbling voice came from the shadows.

“You bringing your own security detail to all our cases now, Blackthorne? And the demon dogs too?” My lips turned up despite the ever-present coldness inside me.

Gunnar Alfson emerged from the overhang, all seven feet of him. His skin was the same color and texture as weathered moss, and his nose resembled a large, crushed walnut. He got his looks from his half-troll heritage.

I glanced back at my bodyguards. “Not by choice, and half of them aren’t happy to be here. Freda, Bennion, this is Gunnar, my ISB partner.”

Bennion puffed out his chest. “What does ISB stand for anyway?” he muttered as he sized Gunnar up.

“Investigative Services Branch. You’re here to guard the Alpha Mate, and you don’t know what she does?” Gunnar raised his bushy eyebrows as Mangus came up and headbutted him in the stomach. “Hey, you ugly mutt. Don’t get your slobber on me.” He patted Mangus’s head, wiped his shirt off, and lumbered into the station.

The lobby area smelled like coffee and damp wool clothes. A young ranger at the front desk snuck glances at Mangus and Athena as he directed us down a hallway lined with faded photographs of the Park’s history. I paused and scanned the groups of rangers from twenty years ago, searching the faces instinctively.