Freys.”
The marshal shot me a look. “Their conspiracy theories that Herc had something to do with Murphy’s death only made matters worse. Even the best climbers can fall, but maybe it was easier for the Freys to believe Herc had a hand in things rather than admit that maybe their loved one made a mistake while climbing.”
“I don’t believe Herc killed him. Is there anything else you recall from that day? Anything Murphy said or did that stood out?”
She rested back. “He wouldn’t answer any of my questions about Ragna. I remember that. We all wanted news of her, as you can imagine.”
“Herc said the same.”
“Murphy didn’t trust us for whatever reason. I recall thinking he was no longer a steward. Now, I realise his silence was because they stole you and he wasn’t giving up any hint of your whereabouts. So why would Herc do anything to his only hope to find you? More likely, he planned to follow Murphy back to Ragna and yourself. Even the Freys have to admit that now.”
My thought exactly.
“I’m reading her last two journals in the hopes of learning more.” Dang, I’d really hoped she’d know more.
Pascal glanced at me. “Ragna kept journals?”
“Yes, until nineteen—the year she left. I just can’t understand how one thousand stewards and their families missed Savannah’s first pregnancy.”
“Charise and Nicolas had been killed not long prior. Having Thana as a last name wasn’t a healthy pastime.”
I’d forgotten how soon after my grandparents’ deaths this must have happened. “You think they decided to hide the pregnancy to keep me safe?”
“And Savannah safe too. That’s my guess. She was a tall woman, like yourself. In later months, we received word doctors had diagnosed her with multiple sclerosis. No one thought anything of not seeing her for several months. To my knowledge, only her mother—your other grandmother—stayed with her.”
That made sense. “Is Savannah’s mother still alive?”
Pascal looked at me sadly. “No, Andie. I’m sorry.”
I straightened. “Story of my life. Thank you, Pascal. I appreciate your honesty.”
“I’m glad you asked. Secrets like that are a punishment to carry. If there’s nothing else, I should communicate your request to the Luthers.”
“That’s all,” I answered, mind already turning to the list of jobs to be done. “If you see Rhona, could you send her in, please?”
There were a few things she should know.
Last time I entered pack lands, I had a thong for company. I really hoped that didn’t come back to bite me on the ass.
“I’m going to protect the shit out of your virtue,” Wade said from the passenger seat.
He was here in Rhona’s place. If this was an ambush, then the stewards would still have a leader. “Stop saying virtue. But yes. That would be ideal.”
The other head team members followed in one of the manor vans. I’d opted to bring Ella F instead of the silver Bentley.
Grim stepped from the tree line when we entered pack territory. I waved to him before thinking better of it.
He waved back, standing clear so our convoy could continue.
“Who’s that hunk of meat?” Wade asked.
“Grim. Gamma wolf.”
“What does that mean?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Smart. Bit unusual. Always seems slightly angry. Nice enough.”
In the rear-view mirror, I caught Grim’s smile. Yeah, I didn’t have a frequency generator in Ella F.
Wade peered around in interest as we passed by the harvest fields. “Do I get a Guardian of the Vagina badge for doing this?”
Gripping the wheel, I didn’t answer. Because honestly? He might earn one. My stomach was doing a progressively intense aerial workout the closer I got to Sascha.
Wade looked at me. “You’ll be okay.”
“They can hear us.”
“Don’t give a fuck.”
I grinned, and he winked.
Taking a breath, I nodded. My Girl Guide sash was beyond full of badges. I could handle this. “Hey, were you a scout?”
“Sure was.”
“Many badges?”
“I could wear my sash either side up and it was still full. I’ll leave it at that.”
We had this in the bag.
Get in. Listen to the announcement. Leave. No sex.
Wade made an appreciative noise. “Kind of pretty though, huh? All the bungalows.”
I could agree with that. Pack lands looked like one big nature retreat.
Hairy was waiting outside the largest bungalow. One I’d entered previously in a thong.
I parked out front, tugging my cream cable-knit sweater down over black jeans. High-heel boots completed the non-descript outfit.
“Andie,” the Luther said, catching himself when he started to bow.
I arched a brow at the slip. “Hairy.”
“How are things with you?”
Fucking sarcastic werewolves. “Just peachy. We in here today?” I didn’t