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“She’s not a witch.” A growl rumbles in my chest, my gaze darting around the lawn as if Lawson might be standing close enough for me to shove my fist through his face. “We’d smell it.”
“Would we?” Amora asks simply. “We don’t really have a precedent for that, do we? If we could scent the magic in them, it would make defending against them a hell of a lot easier.”
“She’s not,” I insist.
Amora crosses her arms and peers down her nose at me in a look so reminiscent of our childhood it almost makes me laugh. “How about you just tell me where she came from, and we’ll go from there?”
“I found her at the bottom of Devil’s Ditch. Unconscious.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What’s her story?”
“I don’t know!” I snap, throwing my hands in the air. “I can’t get a fucking moment alone with her to ask!”
Some of the East Pack members are staring at me, their attention drawn by my outburst. Amora glances at them, then latches on to my elbow and drags me around the edge of the barn, out of sight. She lets me go with a little shove of irritation. “Would you chill? You’re acting like a crazy person.”
I open my mouth, ready to go on the defensive, then snap my jaws shut with an audible click of my teeth and rub away the bruising she’s left on my arm. Amora’s right. And to be honest, I feel like a fucking crazy person too. Ever since I dragged Sable home, I don’t know what’s been going on with me. Maybe I’m hiding it well from everyone else—even from myself—but I’ve never been able to hide anything from Amora.
“Ridge, listen to me.” My friend steeples her fingers in front of her face as if she’s praying and waits until I’ve given her my undivided attention. “You’re violating the packs’ treaty by allowing an unsanctioned being to reside in your house.”
I clench my jaw at the unwelcome reminder and nod once. I’m lucky Grady’s an easygoing old fart, or he would’ve been on my ass for letting in an outsider instead of just giving me shit about my skills with women.
“Our treaty declares that all three packs have agreed to close ourselves off from newcomers,” Amora goes on.
“Like I don’t fucking know?” I grunt.
“Well, clearly, you don’t.” Amora arches a brow, pointing in the direction of my cabin. “Because there’s an unsanctioned female on your couch.”
I almost correct her with, In my bed, actually, but that seems like it would open a whole new can of fucking worms. I’ve had enough drama in the last twenty-four hours to last me for the rest of my damn life.
“Trust is in short supply lately,” Amora says, oblivious to my inner thoughts. Thank God. “Half the pack already thinks you’ve gone off the deep end and put us in danger. What happens when the other packs find out? You think Trystan is gonna stand for this? Or even Archer?”
I know she’s right, but the reminder is frustrating as fuck. Treaty be damned. I can’t just kick Sable out of my house. Not in the state she’s in. But even more than that—I have no fucking clue why, but I can’t let her go.
“I just… need a minute,” I growl in a low voice. “A day, some time to figure out why she was abandoned, beat to shit, in the middle of our territory.”
“Maybe because she’s a plant?” Amora suggests. “Put there by the witches to infiltrate our pack?”
My jaw clenches, and so do my fists.
“She’s not. We don’t have time to stand here and argue. We have a meeting.”
I stalk away before Amora can say anything else. I hate how often our conversations end in me walking away because I don’t like what her logic has to say. She’s never sugarcoated her opinions for me or been anything but blunt and honest—and the truth is, I’m a better man because of the times I listened to her.
But this…
What if she’s right?
Yes, Sable has clearly been the victim of abuse. Nobody can fake all those scars that look as if they span at least a decade’s worth of time. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t chosen explicitly by the witches to infiltrate our pack. My gut knows it’s not true—I can look in the girl’s haunted gray-blue eyes and know there’s no malice there, and there’s definitely no magic.
Regardless, Amora has planted a worry I wish I didn’t have to carry.
Then again, maybe it won’t even have a chance to be an issue. I told the golden-haired angel she wasn’t my prisoner. That she was free to leave if she chose.
As I walk into the dark interior of the council building, I rub the ache in my chest and wonder if Sable’s already gone.
9
Sable
