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I love that you’ve kept yourself pure for me, I really do. I’ll always treasure that, and I’ll prove that to you very soon.
Luke’s hand clenched tight around the phone as red-hot rage coursed through his blood. Motherfucker. His cat let out a furious hiss, his hackles rising in a rush. “You showed this to anyone else?” he asked, a guttural edge to his voice.
She shook her head. “I wanted to show it to you first. My original plan was to invite you to my cabin tomorrow, spill everything to you, and for us both to then report the email to Embry. That plan got derailed tonight.”
Staring at her cell, he ground his teeth again, his nostrils flaring. “Whoever sent you this … they’re clearly obsessed with you. They talk like you belong to them; like it was always a given that you’d be theirs. And, going by what they said and the way they said it, I think they’re from the pack.”
“So do I,” she said, her eyes dulling.
He soothingly rubbed her thigh, knowing how much the theory had to hurt her.
“I also think it’s highly possible that they killed Macy,” she added.
“I’d have to agree. They said they wanted to prove to you just how much they treasured you staying ‘pure.’ Maybe, to them, ending the life of a woman who so thoroughly insulted you was proof.”
“Sick freak,” Blair muttered before blowing out a shaky breath. “I don’t know who it could be, Luke. I can’t think of a single person in the pack who ever gave me the creeps.”
“People like that often wear masks. You wouldn’t know they were fucked up unless they wanted you to.” He tugged her closer and slid a hand up her back. “Did anyone in the pack ever come onto you?”
“No. I would have told you if they had.”
“Have any tried to get close to you in what might have seemed like a platonic way?”
She shook her head.
“No guys ever do things to get your attention?”
“Nope. Ever since I read that email, I’ve done nothing but ask myself who could have sent it. But I just don’t know.” She licked her lips. “My mother has a theory as to who might be leaving me gifts, but I don’t know if I agree with it.”
“What theory?”
She shifted slightly. “I don’t think I ever told you about Gabriel, did I?”
Luke felt his brows knit. “Gabriel? No.”
“He was my friend when I was a kid. He was … well, he was different. Super serious and a little morbid. Obsessed with death. If he found a dead animal, he’d cut it open and dissect it as easily as you’d carve into a watermelon. So when his parents were shot by an intruder when he was ten, a lot of people—my mother included—thought he’d had something to do with it. He was ostracized by Embry. Some thought it right, some didn’t.”
“What about you? What do you think?”
“I think it was unfair that they pointed fingers at him. He wasn’t exactly close to his parents, but he did love them. He had no motivation to kill them. But his uncle—who’s human and took him in after his parents’ death—is an avid gun collector and taught him how to shoot. That went against Gabriel, even though he didn’t own a gun and none were found in his home. It didn’t help his cause that he didn’t appear to grieve his parents. But I don’t doubt that he was in pain. He just wasn’t the type to show emotion in front of others.”
“Okay.” Luke paused. “Even though he was ‘different,’ as you call it, I don’t see why Noelle would think that he might be the one harassing you.”
She pulled a face. “He used to strip and disfigure my dolls. He also sneaks onto pack territory sometimes. He leaves playing cards on my porch.”
The little hairs on Luke’s nape stirred. “Because you liked to build houses of cards when you were a kid?”
She nodded. “He never left me what you’d consider real gifts, though.”
“No, but you’re eighteen now. Old enough to be claimed, if that’s what’s on his mind. This would be the right time for him to make a move.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I guess. But I don’t feel comfortable laying the blame on him without any real reason to do so. I don’t even know him. I knew him when we were kids; that’s different.”
“He’s a potential suspect, though. You have to concede that much.”
She slightly inclined her head. “Okay. Yes. But I’m not sold on this theory.”
“Noted. I’m not leaving any stone unturned, though. Do you know where he lives?”
“No. But his uncle probably does.”
“The human who took him in?”
“Yes. His name is Quincy Rendell. He lives somewhere near the outlet mall not far from Sylvan territory. That’s all I know.”
