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“You should take Clayton with you,” I suggested.
“He’s a child,” she countered.
“He’s a shifter. Mask your scent. Go in as a pair of shifters passing through. Stop at that bar Morgan ran if it’s open. You can get a lot of gossip at a bar,” I said.
“True,” she agreed.
“I still can’t tell if Billy was working on his own or if someone is controlling him,” I admitted.
“There’s a lot here. We’re dealing with something bigger than just pack rivals. I think it’s bigger than the resources this town is hiding, too,” she said.
“Be careful,” I said. “It’s been centuries since the witch covens worked together, but if they’ve united…”
“I know.” Her serious tone told me she’d been worried about this just as much as I was. It was difficult to articulate because saying it out loud gave it power. Made it real. If this was more than just greed, we were in trouble. There hadn’t been a witch uprising in modern times, but they once controlled all magic. Including shifter magic.
There were stories of them withholding shifting, driving our kind mad as the beasts inside withered and died after years of neglect. Shifters couldn’t be separated from our nature for too long without consequences.
“Someone with incredibly powerful magic addled those humans and got past our wards. And now they’re all dead. It’s not adding up. This is dangerous magic. Beyond what most witches are capable of,” she said.
My brow furrowed. “You’re scared.”
“I’m not,” she lied.
“You are. Holy shit.” I ran a hand through my hair. If Zoe was freaked out, this was worse than I expected. “I want to hear what you’re thinking when you get back.”
“Okay. Unless Scarlett liquifies my brain for bringing her the bad news,” Zoe said.
“She won’t,” I replied. Zoe and Scarlett had a long, painful history, but I didn’t think either of them could actually physically hurt one another. At least I hoped not.
“Your charity project is in there picking out some clothes. On your tab,” Zoe snapped, clearly done with this topic.
My shoulders slumped. I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with the issue of Morgan. It was a complication that could get me killed even if her dad wasn’t the one doing it. “Not a charity project.”
“Well, if you hadn’t been soft and shown mercy, none of us would be in this situation,” Zoe said.
“You were the one telling me to take the deal,” I reminded her.
“Since when did you listen to me?” she teased.
“You know you’re about the only person I listen to,” I said.
She smirked. “That’s probably true. But you know, she’s not so bad. Maybe you’ll even find a way to get along.”
I scoffed. “Bye, Zoe.”
Zoe spun on her heels then walked away, leaving me to take on Kiki and Morgan on my own. It wasn’t that I wanted to hate Morgan, but there was a possibility she was in on all of this. While Zoe might have been charmed by the newcomer, I wasn’t going to forget the fact that her father had tried to kill me. Then he’d happily handed his daughter over to me. I’d taken the bait, but I still wasn’t sure what risk Morgan posed to me or my pack.
It was odd that he’d send her here. Most alphas protected their children because of the power they’d inherit one day.
Alpha passed in bloodlines. While many packs were old-fashioned and skipped their daughters in favor of sons, the alpha strength still passed to the strongest offspring. I’d heard of situations where the female child clearly gained the alpha strength and power, but they still gave the title to the male. Those alphas often didn’t last long and the daughter’s mate would eventually rise to alpha using his marriage connection.
But that wasn’t the case here. Morgan was theonlyoffspring. She had alpha in her blood and I was not about to underestimate her for a second. She would be the only option for the transfer of power once her dad died. I wondered if she even knew that. Or if that was all part of the grand plan.
The bell jingled as I stepped into Kiki’s shop and a moment later, Kiki materialized from somewhere near a tower of tee shirts that nearly reached the ceiling. The smile she always wore lit up her face, and I caught just the slightest glint of reflection in her green eyes. She moved with her usual feline grace, her lithe body showing every bit of the panther lurking beneath. Wolves didn’t move like her.
Kiki had been found bleeding to death outside our borders when my dad was a child. His father, my grandfather, had brought her in and helped her heal. I didn’t know the full story, but she’d made our town her home after that. She was quirky and playful and an eternal optimist. I was glad she’d stayed here.
“She’s in the changing room,” Kiki offered.
