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Rebecca was waiting for me outside The Cauldron. I could see her through the window.

I hadn’t seen or talked to her since I’d called her after Jane was killed, after I’d lied to her and told her I’d found no trace of her. I did my best to keep my expression neutral, but there was no controlling the churning in my stomach. I unlocked and opened the door. “Rebecca, hi.” I barely got the words out before she collapsed into my arms, her thin frame quaking as huge sobs were wrenched from her.

Putting an arm around her narrow shoulders, I led her into the shop and locked the door after us.

“She’s dead,” Rebecca cried. “Jane’s dead.”

Pain for this woman, for her daughter, sliced through me. “I’m so sorry.” And I meant that with everything in me. I had no hope of understanding what she was going through, but all the heartbreak and horror poured off her. Her aura had been a dull, dense blue when she’d first come here several days ago, showcasing her disapproval of her daughter, and red, for the fear she was feeling. Now it was gray, as though her life, her vitality had been washed away with Jane’s passing.

It hurt to look at.

She lifted her head, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, the skin beneath dark. Guilt grabbed me tightly by the throat. The truth, what really happened to Jane, was right there on the tip of my tongue. She’d already believed her daughter was possessed. It wasn’t a stretch that she’d believe the rest of it. But telling Rebecca the truth would turn her world upside down—and expose ours.

Her world’s already been shattered. The truth could give her some peace.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I ignored it as I led her to the small kitchen at the back of the shop and sat her down, then put on the kettle. “What happened?” I asked, not wanting to know what gruesome story the human police believed but needing to know it all the same.

Her hands shook, and I took a box of tissues from the cupboard and put them in front of her. She grabbed a wad and blew her nose. “Someone murdered her, Willow. Someone mutilated my girl and left her body in the forest for wild animals to…to…oh god…”

I crossed my arms, curling my hands into fists. If this were me, one of my sisters—

The churning in my stomach increased.

Rebecca deserved the truth. “Where was she found?”

“J-just outside of the city…near Marsden.”

Marsden was at the opposite side of Roxburgh. As far from the hounds’ clubhouse as you could get. “Do the police have any idea what happened?”

She shook her head. “There were no prints, no DNA. Nothing. She must have been, oh god…so scared. So very scared.” Her thin frame shuddered violently.

I felt sick.

“And there were…there were other bodies. I know you said you found nothing, but anything, no matter how small, might be a help to the police.”

Other bodies? What the hell was going on? “I’m sorry, no. I didn’t find anything. You said there were others?” I seriously hated myself right then.

My phone buzzed again, and I discreetly checked it in case it was one of my sisters. Several missed calls from Warrick. I ignored this one as well, put my phone on silent, and shoved it back in my pocket.

“They think she was targeted by a…a serial killer.” She was shaking again, her voice filled with the horror those words conjured. “People…monsters like that…” she squeezed her eyes closed, her face bloodless. “They take pleasure in causing pain,” she said, her voice growing panicked. “Oh god, how long did he hurt her, how long did he torture her…” She shuddered.

Seeing her like that and keeping my mouth shut, not telling her that Jane had been loved, or whatever the hellhound equivalent was, was so damn hard. Warrick and his brothers may not be capable of love as we know it, but Maddox was out there somewhere, suffering over the loss of his female and pup. He’d cared for her in his own way, deeply; there’d been no missing that.

If Jane were my daughter, I’d want to know that she’d been cared for, that it was a horrible accident, that Jane’s death was quick, almost instant. That she wouldn’t have suffered with the speed the hounds were capable of. One moment Jane would have been with the male she loved, then nothing.

Rebecca believed her daughter had suffered, had been tortured, terrified.

The truth, as hard as it would be to hear, would bring Rebecca some peace, and I wanted to give that to her so badly. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. I’m so sorry,” I said again. Useless words, but I felt partly responsible and so incredibly guilty that I was keeping this from her.

“She was pregnant,” she said. “She was carrying a baby and didn’t even tell me. She hated me that much…”

“No,” I said and covered her hand. “I don’t believe that, Rebecca. She loved you. I fight with my mom, my sisters, but that doesn’t diminish how much I love them. She loved you, she did.”

Her eyes locked with mine, filled with utter heartbreak. “Why, Willow, why didn’t she tell me? No one’s come forward, there’s no boyfriend that I know of. Don’t they even care? Did some awful man get her pregnant and just leave her to deal with it alone? Maybe whoever she was seeing was the one who hurt her? She kept him hidden from me.” She gripped her hair and shook her head. “Why would someone have done that to her? Why? Why did they hurt my baby?”

My resolve began to crack. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “She would have told you about the baby, she just didn’t get the chance.”

Rebecca crumpled and I stayed with her until she’d exhausted herself, then drove her home, feeling like the biggest asshole in existence.