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close the window and drop onto the bed. The shadowed light casts fluid, geometric shapes on the wood floor. I watch out the window, half expecting Corbin to return, but once more, I’m alone.

Again, I hear a sound, not a rustling or the patter of footsteps. Rather, it’s like someone is singing. The wolves like their music loud and aren’t bashful about singing along. But this tune is different, softer, otherworldly.

A sense of familiarity flushes through me, stirring my stomach with uncertainty. I pull out my diary. The one left to me at my parents’ house is underneath. I should write an entry about how peculiar Corbin has been and about Amanda’s warnings when the song comes again.

I flip the stack of diaries and open the old, leather one. As I part the cover, I hear my name in the song carrying across the pages. I slam it shut, unnerved. Yet, I’m certain it was a woman’s lyrical singing. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.

I blink in the darkness, trying to convince myself it was from somewhere in the lodge. There’s no shaft of light coming from under the door, telling me others are awake.

I lean back on my pillow and open the diary again. The song is like a soothing lullaby.

When the dawn light spills gray through the slit in the curtain, the buttery pancakes from the lodge’s kitchen tells me it’s time to get up.

The diary lay closed by my side, and the night before catches up with me. When I visited Lonsdale, the manor in Cardington, Corbin warned me about magical objects. I stash the diary at the bottom of my backpack, promising myself I’ll find out more about it while also warning myself not to open it again until I do. Yet, I can’t help but want to part the pages again now.

A light knock on the door startles me. Sleepily, I open it to find Inga looking as exhausted as I feel.

She skips pleasantries. “They found a young man that washed up along the river that cuts across our land. I guess Amanda wasn’t wasting any time.”

My hand slaps across my mouth. Instant regret fills me. “That’s awful. Do you really think she did it?”

Inga places her hand on my arm. “It could be a coincidence, but...not likely. Corbin called a meeting in the den. I figured you ought to hear about it first considering last night’s events.”

But how could Amanda have done so with the Accords spell preventing her? I get dressed and hasten to the kitchen even though I left my appetite somewhere in the vicinity of Inga’s bad news.

When I enter, everyone falls silent and dozens of pairs of eyes land on me. I suddenly realize they think I was the one who killed the guy by the river. I’m the monster. I want to back away slowly while at the same time convince them it wasn’t me.

I glance around, looking for backup, but the betas are in the meeting.

A newspaper crinkles in the hands of a wolf shifter with a plate of half-eaten blueberry pancakes in front of him. “Nothing like this has happened for decades. Then you show up and—”

A girl with a mop of ashy brown hair steps closer. “How many more will there be until someone stops you?”

“You’re lucky our Alpha trusts you.” A guy with wire-rim glasses sneers.

I flinch. “It wasn’t me—” But my voice drowns in the cacophony of speculation.

Backing away until I’m in the long hallway that leads to the garage, my entire body is spasming, my nerves electric with anger and frustration, confusion and hurt.

I have to get out of here. The wolves have a welcome habit of leaving the keys in the ignition of their vehicles. Many are communal cars so they’re fair game. I’ve taken liberties with the Jeep before, and I’ll do it again if only to get space between myself and the accusations.

My vision slides out of focus for a moment. A fading sensation overwhelms me. I grip the cold metal of a sleek, black pickup truck. I blink a few times. Must be low blood sugar. I know just where to go to fix that.

As I get behind the wheel—the truck was closest— everything becomes hyper-vivid. It’s even more so than when my wolf senses became activated. It’s like going from watching a black and white television screen to color. Maybe it’s the fae or vampire seizing hold?

Well, whatever. I need a doughnut.

Chapter 4

Corbin

“Enough,” I shout over the edgy chatter among the wolves in the kitchen.

Everyone falls silent.

“Kenna had nothing to do with the death of the young man by the river.” I battle with my inner wolf. I want to go after Kenna, but I need to deal with my pack and what the deaths will mean for us since they’re in such close proximity to our borders.

“Then what’s going on?” Heather asks. “She’s the MMW. Doesn’t that make her a prime suspect?”

I glance out the window. The morning sun is a welcome match in the sky that sends little flames dancing across the fields. It’s the perfect kind of day to catch a werewolf, find Greyson Slade, and restore the peace in our world.

Disregarding the question about Kenna, I make another snap decision. “Listen up, it’s time to expose Greyson Slade and the Klave once and for all.”

Those gathered cheer, having been subject to or heard the many stories of his cruelty.

“Any idea where he is?” Harper asks.

Honesty trumps my ego. “No idea, but Kenna is going to help.”

“Just like she helped lure out the Klave during the Mate Call-Out?” Avril crosses her arms in front of her chest and casts me a smug smile. “Oh, wait. That was a big fat

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