What if she hates me?”
Damon put his can down. “That’s what I thought would happen if Anna Victoria found out about … about what I did.” Damon had confessed to him about how he had lost control of his bear during a romp with some base bunny after he thought he was ‘cured’ from his PTSD. “So, I pushed my mate away, convinced that I was no good for her. But you know what? She wouldn’t accept that. She fought me tooth and nail and wore me down.” He chuckled.
“But this is different … there’s no denying I killed two innocent people.”
“Who were hunting you down for sport,” Damon reminded him. “They knew the consequences of tangling with a wild animal.”
“But—”
“Krieg. John.” Damon’s tone was firmer now. “Dutchy is your mate. If she feels anything for you, she’ll understand and accept you for who you are now and what happened in your past. And if she doesn’t, then maybe you guys shouldn’t be together. The mating bond will never form if you’re not fully open and fully committed.”
His heart thudded in his chest. The thought of not being with Dutchy made something ache in him, but then they might not even have a chance if she rejected him after finding out what a monster he was. “I—”
His bear’s hackles rising made him stop short. Damon, too, must have sensed the presence approaching them, and he shot to his feet. Something was out there in the darkness.
A small, glowing green orb floated in the darkness, coming closer until a four-legged creature padded out into the light. The grizzled, one-eyed wolf moved closer, slowly turning into its human form.
“Milos.” Damon relaxed and so did Krieger. “You’re out late. Care to join us? We don’t have any beer left, though.”
Milos shook his head. “That is not why I’m here.”
Krieger immediately noticed the tension in the wolf shifter’s stance. “What’s wrong?”
“I found a vehicle down the road, stuck in the mud and abandoned.”
“I didn’t see any car when I drove up,” Krieger said. “Must have come after me.”
“If the car’s stuck, maybe they went back down to get help,” Damon guessed. “Did you see anyone?”
Milos shook his head. “No, I think it has been a few hours.” He frowned. “I must tell you something, Chief. What I’ve discovered.”
“About what?” Damon asked. “Did you find the missing raccoon shifter?”
“No. But I did find something else.”
“What?”
“Patterns. Others who may have disappeared. I asked Petros to check if there are other shifters who have been reported missing in the last few weeks. It turns out there were: an older man, Julius MacKenna, a raven shifter who works as a mechanic in town and a female rabbit shifter named Bridgette Smythe.”
“So, you think all of them are connected?” Damon asked. “And this car down the road, what about it?”
“I’ve noticed strange movements in the forest. Smells that should not be there. Tracks that seem abnormal. I’ve been trying to follow the trail, but it keeps eluding me. I am not sure if the abandoned car is connected, but it seems a strange coincidence.” Milos’s nose wrinkled. “But perhaps we should investigate?”
“I’ll come with you,” Krieger volunteered.
The three men trudged down the muddy road. About four or five miles down, Krieger spied the blue Honda, stopped at an angle off the trail, as if it had slid down. Rounding to the back, he bent down and inspected the tires. Just as Milos described, it was stuck deep in the mud. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. A few feet away was a trucker cap, half-buried in the mud. Picking it up, he brushed the dirt from the front, revealing a logo that read “J.D.’s Garage.”
“Chief!” he shouted. “You need to see this.”
“What is it?” Damon asked he scrambled over. Krieger stood up and showed him the cap. “That’s J.D.’s.”
“Found it in the mud.”
Damon’s jaw hardened. “This isn’t her car,” he said through gritted teeth. “She drives a mint green classic Ford truck.”
“Then whose car is it?” Milos asked.
Damon tucked the cap into his back jeans pocket. “Let’s find out.”
They walked up to the front doors. Krieger was the first to reach the passenger side, so he yanked it open and stuck his head inside. The familiar scent hit him right away. “Fuck!” Reaching for the glovebox, he pulled it open and grabbed the paperwork inside. Sure enough, the registration said the owner was Duchess Marie Forrester. “Motherfucker!”
“Krieger?” Damon asked as he stuck his head in from the driver’s