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“No, I didn’t. I only ever got a name and a description of what she looked like. But spells can be cast to change appearances, and names can be fake.” She shrugs, looking out the window at the street outside. “I can give you what information I gathered, but I’m not sure it’ll be much help.”
Nodding slowly, I lower my gaze to the plate before and pick up the sandwich, taking a bite. Maple turkey, honey ham, and applewood bacon mix together with muenster cheese, herb mayonnaise, and spiced mustard. The lettuce crunches with each bite, and the tomatoes are sweet and juicy. My mouth salivates as I swallow the first bite, diving into the next immediately. With everything happening, my appetite has been nonexistent. Until now.
Anera smiles, reaching out to pat my arm. “Good, yeah? You come by here for lunch every day. I don’t want to hear a thing about it.”
“Thank you.” I finish the sandwich, downing the bottle of water she brought for me. I close my eyes, replaying Kilch’s words in my head. “Did something happen in the last few days, Anera? Something with Aramin.”
Her brows cinch, but she nods slowly. “Actually, yes. She came by a few days ago, giving condolences for my loss.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “As if that sprite would ever actually care about someone else’s loss.”
I clench my jaw for a moment, trying to control the anger building in my chest. “What did she say, exactly?”
She sighs, scrunching her mouth to the side. “Let me think. Something about she was sorry for my loss. That she was sure I was so upset and angry. I laughed in her face, told her it was the best thing to ever happen to me. I have all our money and a successful business and now no moochin’ husband to support.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve left him ages ago and given up on ever getting information on that stupid witch.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “She did say something else, though. She patted my hand when she got to the register, saying something about how she’ll get justice for my pain, but when she touched me… it hurt.”
“Hurt?” I look down at her hand, inspecting the spot where her fingers rub.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Like a bad shock.”
Magic, my wolf snarls.
I shove back from the table, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll be back for lunch tomorrow. Please report to Frank if Aramin comes back here.”
She frowns up at me, confusion evident in her face, but she nods.
I get back into my truck, flying down the road toward my bar. Loathing consumes me as I think of Monique—showing up at my bar, abusing Adara her whole life. Now, joining with my kind—the wolves she hates—just to ruin the speck of happiness Adara had finally found.
A dark laugh escapes me with one thought: we do have one thing in common. I hate my kind too.
The council will pay for the pain they’ve caused, and Monique’s punishment will be without comparison—worse than anything from her nastiest nightmare.
Everyone needs to be reminded of why they fear the wrath of Gideon Disantollo, the Silver Wolf Pack alpha, and Adara needs to be reminded of everything that we are because I refuse to live in a world where I never get to see her smile, never get to kiss her lips. Where she never feels true happiness again. Where she doesn’t believe how powerful she really is, my little lycan witch.
