Page 190 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“That was implied by detained.”

I turned on him.

Cormac didn’t move, but his voice lowered. “Before you start tearing through the old wing, you need to understand the rest.”

“There is always more.”

“Yes. Tonight more comes with human shouting.”

I stopped.

Cormac’s eyes moved briefly toward the direction of the family wing. “Cassie’s father is escalating. The staff have used the allergic reaction story, the fall story, the doctor’s orders story, and the storm interference story. None of them are holding. The bride is pushing too. Quieter than her father, but sharper.”

“Tessa wants Cassie.”

“Yes.”

“And Grant?”

Cormac’s mouth tightened. “The groom? He wants his wedding.”

The words landed with a cold, ugly satisfaction I didn’t like in myself.

I had no fondness for Cassie’s family. Her father had let pity and pride cut her in small public ways all weekend. Her mother hid discomfort behind social smoothing. Tessa had been too wrapped in silk, flowers, and a stolen history with the wrong man to see her sister clearly.

Grant was worse. Grant had looked at Cassie like history he had outgrown, then stood beside her sister and expected the whole room to pretend there was nothing cruel in that.

Still, none of them deserved death.

Not even him.

Cormac saw something in my face. “Come on.”

We took the service corridor.

The resort around us had the wrong feel. Too many wolves awake behind closed doors. Too much silver taken from old cabinets and carried under jackets. Too much fear pressed into discipline. The walls were polished, the carpet clean, the art tasteful enough for wealthy humans, and beneath it all the building had become a trap waiting to decide who counted as prey.

As we passed the junction near the human wing, a man’s voice cut through the hallway.

“I am done being handled.”

Cassie’s father.

I stopped before I chose to.

Cormac stopped with me.

The voice came again, rough from hours of frustration. “I want my daughter. Not a text. Not another message through some resort manager with a smile stapled on. I want Cassie in front of me.”

A staffer answered in the trained voice of someone paid to make lies sound like service. “Sir, we understand your concern. Ms. Morgan is resting comfortably and cannot receive visitors tonight.”

“Then the doctor can come explain that to me.”

“We are arranging that.”

“You have been arranging that for days.”

Tessa spoke next.