Page 97 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“No.”

That was the first answer that actually eased something in me. Not enough to forgive anyone of course, but enough to put down one ugly possibility. The dog had not been bait. I had not followed some supernatural breadcrumb trail. Henry had run because Henry was a spoiled white dust mop with no respect for wedding timelines, and I had followed because Tessa screamed like the dog was her first born.

The open gate had been there.

We had found it. Wrong place. Wrong timing. Wrong woman.

Story of the weekend, really.

Ian came closer to the table but didn’t stand over me. I had started to notice that too. He chose distance now the way other men chose words, carefully and with enough effort to make me aware of both the restraint and the want beneath it.

“Who opened it?” he asked.

Lucien answered. “The log shows a staff override.”

“Name.”

“Shared code.”

Ian’s eyes went cold. Ronan’s didn’t change, which meant he had already passed anger and arrived somewhere more useful.

“The guard assigned to that gate is missing,” Ronan said.

My fingers tightened around the blanket. “Missing missing?”

“Absent from his quarters. Absent from rotation. No response through pack channels.”

I looked at Ronan. “Does missing usually mean dead here?”

“Sometimes.”

Very reassuring.

“What is his name?” Ian asked.

“Brenner,” Ronan said.

Ian swore under his breath.

I looked at him. “You know him?”

“Young. Holloway-born. Nervous. Not clever enough to plan this.”

“This?”

Ronan’s gaze cut to him.

Ian didn’t look away from me. “Someone used that gate before you found it.”

Ronan said, “We do not yet know for what purpose.”

“No,” Ian agreed. “But we know it happened.”

The air tightened between them. There was more there. I could feel it. Not through the mark exactly, though the mark seemed to translate tension now whether I wanted subtitles or not. This was history. Pack hierarchy. Ronan controlling the words because words had consequences among wolves, and Ian hating the restraint because his instincts preferred the efficient honesty of teeth.

Ronan was not ready to say conspiracy but Ian was already hunting one.

Sava checked the monitor beside my bed. “Her pulse is rising.”