"So you've done nothing more than dance with her?"
"Three times. Which was two times too many, I've since discovered."
Duncan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The woman's certifiable. After the second dance she was talking like we had a future together. By the third, she was acting territorial and talking about having kids."
"You never gave her reason to believe you might have cared for her?"
René snorted. "Care for her? Good grief, have you smelled the woman?"
"So why go back a second and third time?"
"Because my brains lie in my little head, not my big one." He shrugged. "She was there, she was willing, and I've never been particular."
None of them were, and one way or another, it had gotten them all into trouble. "Was last night the last time you danced with her?"
"Yes. And that's when I told her she was delusional." He hesitated and frowned. "You know, she said something weird."
That didn't surprise him. Betise had been saying a lot of weird things lately. "What did she say?"
"She said the Sinclairs owed her mother, and by the end of this moon phase, she intended to take what was promised."
Duncan frowned. What did they owe Iyona? As far as he knew, she'd never been to any of the dances here. "Is that all?"
"All I heard. I must admit, I tuned out before I walked away."
Someone rapped against the outside door. "Coming, coming," Martin called, then stuck his head through the doorway. "If you don't want to be seen, you'd better leave."
Duncan nodded and glanced at his brother. "I'll make sure Zeke provides protection while you're in the hospital."
René raised his eyebrows. "You really think that's necessary?"
"Until we know what's really going on, yes." He spun on his heel and headed back for the tunnel. After he'd ensured the door was closed, he made his way towards his father's rooms. Zeke wasn't there, but that wasn't surprising. As head of the pack, he'd have to be present while the rangers were interviewing and taking samples.
Duncan picked up the phone and quickly dialed Lance.
"Wilton residence." His friend's cheery tones came through loud and clear.
"Lance, Duncan."
"Hey! I was just about to call you."
"You found something?"
"Oh yeah. Discovered who else was in that little raiding party over in the Bitterroot reservation. Would you be surprised if I said one of the others had moved into Ripple Creek just over a month ago?"
"With what has been going on, no."
"Well, if everything I've dug up is true, this woman has a pretty big axe to grind. Apparently, when she was barely a cub she was promised to Tray Sinclair in a deal that was supposed to strengthen business and blood ties between the silver and golden packs over there."
Duncan raised his eyebrows. Arranged marriages had gone out with the Dark Ages, mainly because very few worked. It was extremely rare for such a couple to be soul mates, and for most wolves, commitment to anyone other than their true mate was almost impossible.
"When Tray turned eighteen," Lance continued, "he decides he can't stand the woman and reneges. To say she didn't take his rejection kindly is an understatement."
In many respects, she had every reason to be angry. But burning down the mansion and killing innocents went beyond anyone's idea of fair retribution. "So she led the raiding party to the mansion?"
"Along with half a dozen drunken buddies, yes."