Page 31 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

A useless woman would have dropped the leash. This one had not.

“What is her name?” Ronan asked.

No one answered. Of course no one answered. They had all been too busy deciding how quickly she should die to learn who she was.

The dog barked once, weakly, as if offended on her behalf.

From beyond the hedge came distant human voices. The wedding party.

The sound dragged every wolf’s attention west.

A woman called, “Cassie?”

Ronan’s eyes cut to mine.

Cassie.

The name settled into me with a force that felt close to pain, and my wolf seized it.

Mine.

No.

I forced air through my nose. I could not give the beast every word he wanted. He had already taken too much.

A second voice called from the human side, male and strained. “Cassie, where are you?”

Her father, maybe. Or the groom. The thought of the groom reaching her with that scent of cheap claim on his skin made my lips peel back from my teeth.

Ronan saw that too.

His expression hardened. “Lucien.”

The resort manager stepped from the line of wolves near the southern path. “Alpha.”

“Contain the wedding party.”

Lucien inclined his head. “With what reason?”

“Dog retrieval. Guest injury. Private grounds liability. Use whatever language keeps them on the west terrace.”

“Do we produce the dog?”

The dog pressed itself closer to the stone post and my growl answered before Ronan could.

Lucien didn’t blink, which was why he still had his position.

Ronan said, “Not yet.”

Lucien turned and vanished toward the hedge with two staff wolves behind him. By the time they reached the humans, they would look like resort employees handling an unfortunate trespass with expensive concern.

Humans believed uniforms. They believed waivers. They believed blood if it came with the promise of medical care and a legal explanation.

Ronan looked to another guard. “Bring Dr. Sava to the east infirmary.”

Malrec’s head snapped up. “You cannot mean to treat her.”

“I mean to know why she is alive long enough to be treated.”