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Terror From The North
Aquicktapon the door announced Rory’s arrival. Anita sniffed and frowned when she didn’t register his scent.
“What’s wrong?” Edwina asked.
Suzie had gone to get them something to eat.
“I can’t scent—” Anita broke off when the door flew open. A gasp escaped, and terror turned her limbs to ice.
“Who are you?” Edwina asked. “You’ve got the wrong room.”
“Get her out,” Elizabeth Henderson ordered the four bulky kilt-wearing men who accompanied her.
They manhandled Edwina out of Anita’s bedroom and were none too gentle about it. Edwina fought them every step of the way, but eventually, they shoved her into the passage.
“Get out,” Elizabeth said to her men.
The beefy Scots glided from the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Anita’s senses told her they’d stopped outside in the passage, no doubt awaiting Elizabeth Henderson’s further instructions.
After her initial surge of terror, Anita inhaled a deep breath and let it ease out. If she let this woman push her around again, she’d never forgive herself. She wasn’t a raw teenager, and she didn’t have to bow to bullies.
“I told you what would happen if you came near my grandson again.”
Yep, in excruciating detail. Now bitter memories rushed back to thump Anita over the head.
Anita met the woman’s stony gaze without flinching. Elizabeth had aged well, and her face bore few wrinkles. Her dark brown hair held the same red highlights as Rory’s, but Elizabeth had ice-blue eyes. She was tall for a woman and kept herself fit. She’d acquit herself well in a fight, but she mostly used others to do her dirty work.
“You promised not to approach Rory. I had to show you I wasn’t bluffing. You have one last chance to leave Scotland and never return. Insist on remaining, and the next shot will go through your heart. The following through your skull. You might be a shifter, but I doubt you’d survive a head shot.”
Anita sat up straighter and ignored the pain in her upper chest. “You arranged the shooter.”
There was a kerfuffle in the passage, and Elizabeth frowned. The bedroom door flew open, and Rory strode inside with Edwina, Suzie, and another wolf she’d seen around with Rory. Anita thought his name was Hugh.
Rory planted his hands on his hips.“Grandmother, what are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering my calls.”
“And yet I find you in Anita’s bedroom with your security team standing watch at the door. If you wished to talk to me, shouldn’t you have sought me rather than Anita?”
Anita studied the older woman and watched her jaw clench. This meeting wasn’t going the way she’d planned, and she despised losing control.
“Anita tells me you booted her and her family from their job with the pack.” Rory’s voice was mild, but his features were cold.
Elizabeth sniffed. “I assure you the Lennox family left our pack of their own accord.”
“Lie,” Rory said.
Elizabeth wheeled and turned her ice-blue glare on Anita. “What has she been telling you? Why would you listen to her rather than your own blood?”
“Anita is my mate,” Rory said.
Elizabeth drew a sharp breath, and her glower increased. “She is a cat. You would dilute our bloodlines and cleave yourself to a dirty, lowbred feline?”
“Aye,” Rory said. “She is my true mate, and my loyalty is to her.”
“What about your pack? They’d never accept a flea-ridden feline.”
“Hey, who are you calling flea-ridden?” Suzie demanded.
