Moon Claimed (Werewolf Dens #2) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,65
what will you tell the head team about Rhona’s theory? She’s trying to raise their suspicions about a connection to him without telling them outright.”
“Why though? That’s what I can’t figure out. Why not tell them what she knows?”
Wade hummed. “No idea on that front. My advice would be to state the facts and to include Rhona in the conversation. There’s no doubt the team will watch you after this. Don’t suppose you happened to complete all three remaining meets last night?”
I groaned. “He’s holding out.”
Wade’s voice darkened. “You’re kidding me. He was the one working so hard to convince you to keep going.”
I couldn’t repeat Sascha’s explanation about the kissing. It felt too personal. “I know.”
“What did you guys do out there for two hours?”
Erm. “Argued, pretty much. It’s a shame there’s not a meet for that.”
He snorted.
I tilted my head, picking up sounds ahead. “I’ll need to say goodbye. Meet at mine later?”
“Deal, baby girl. I know this is shit right now, but it’s going to work out, okay? I love you.”
My chest squeezed. No one had said that to me in so long. “I love you too.”
I wound down my window when Grim stepped from the bushes. “Hey, Grim.”
He bowed slightly. “Andie.”
The van pulled up behind me. “Listen, can you make sure Sascha knows my sister, Rhona, is here? There’s a chance she’ll stir trouble up—not with violence, but she’s angry with Sascha and with me. Could you let him know to be on his guard?”
Grim nodded and melted back into the bushes. He was a strange one, but I liked him for some reason.
I drove on, collecting my thoughts as I directed the team to the largest bungalow. This time Sascha waited outside.
“Head Steward,” he greeted.
“Pack Leader,” I replied, deciding to drop the Luther routine. It was fucking rude, and I was better than that.
The team piled out of the van behind me.
“Welcome to our territory,” Sascha said.
Rhona scoffed, “Your territory? This is our land.”
“The land belongs to itself,” Sascha said mildly. “Or has your tribe changed its mind regarding ownership?”
“Don’t mince words, Luther,” Rhona spat, coming to my side.
“Rhona.” I cut her off. “While here, we have a very easy and specific job to do for our tribe. How about we get to it?”
I didn’t wait for her answer.
Sascha stood aside to let me enter and gave Rhona his back as he filed into the bungalow after me.
Dipping my head at the row of already seated Luthers, I missed my chance to take my seat. Rhona slid into the middle chair which Sascha had adorned with antlers between times. My lips twitched despite Rhona’s move.
I took the seat next to her.
“Thank you for welcoming us to your territory,” I said as Sascha took his throne.
He held up a hand. “Excuse my interruption, Head Steward, but I believe your sister has mistaken the seating arrangement.”
“There’s no mistake,” Rhona said, smirking.
“Rhona,” Stanley hissed under his breath. “Not here.”
She ignored the old man.
“It’s Luther custom that the leader sit in the correct chair,” Sascha said in the thick tension.
Bullshit.
At least someone cares about establishing order, my wolf muttered.
You don’t recognise the concept of pack or family, I replied, who are you to judge me?
I don’t judge. I merely care.
“Then I see no reason why we can’t proceed,” Rhona said.
I really didn’t need to say anything. That was a pretty clear declaration of her motive. Gasps rang out from my head team.
“Rhona,” Valerie hushed. “I thought you came here for… well…”
To face her father’s murderer in his own home? That’s how I once looked at this meeting and playing Grids—as a standoff and a show of strength for Herc.
More and more, I saw that Herc wasn’t exempt from blame. He drew a gun on Sascha too easily. Something happened to Murphy, and I was willing to bet Herc had a hand in his death. I saw the disgust in his eyes when I screamed at the idea of Sascha dying. It was the same disgust I’d directed at myself when I didn’t kill Greyson. Things between Herc and me would never have been the same after that moment. Maybe he would have hurt me eventually. His own daughter.
And for what?
Because I was reacting to a magical bond I knew very little about? Because I was tainted by association? Because I didn’t hate the Luthers enough?
Maybe what Sascha was scared me really bad at first. That fear had generated a cold contempt that Herc’s death strengthened to loathing.