Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,28

could they…?”

“The challenger was a supporter of her father’s,” Midas said gently. “He was biding his time, and he took the first opening she gave him. The others were too stunned to intervene. They were reeling, and he took advantage of that too.”

I almost asked him how we could fix this, but there was no repairing this.

Claudia was dead.

Dead.

A vibrant, ambitious young alpha with a heart big enough to make the tough calls, and she was gone.

Fingers curled into a fist at my side, I already regretted punching the wall. Ouch. “What can we do?”

“Mom has asked the Knoxville pack to leave.” Heaviness settled into his voice. “It’s not right, but it was a witnessed challenge. There’s nothing we can do but let them go.”

“Get them out of Atlanta before they start making messes, you mean?”

“Yes,” he gritted out, and I heard his disapproval loud and clear.

“Okay.” I steadied my nerves. “What do you need from me?”

“I wanted you to be aware of the situation, but what you’re doing is more important.”

“I don’t mean workwise.” I was almost done at HQ. “Are you okay?”

“Violence is a part of who we are,” he said quietly. “We’re predators, and weakness can be tantalizing.”

The distance he put between the emotion simmering in the words coming out of his mouth told me what he thought of the line he was feeding me. One he must have choked on a time or two as well.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll make peace with it. In time.”

A warm handed landed on my shoulder, and Bishop raised his eyebrows to ask if I was square.

A nod was all I could spare without drawing him into our conversation, but he stayed put afterward.

“I’ll touch base with you soon.” I curled my fingers around my phone. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Midas ended the call before I dragged it out more, which was good and bad. “You heard?”

“Enough,” Bishop said, but what he meant was every last bit. “Gwyllgi aren’t necromancers.”

“Gwyllgi aren’t so different from necromancers.” I pocketed my phone. “We take down rivals, end reigns and lives, stage coups. Less blood is spilled, sure, but the political and financial consequences can prove more ruinous for the families left behind than for the person who earned the hit.”

“You can’t reform the pack.” He searched her face. “You get that, right?”

Chagrin at being caught having those exact thoughts swept through me. “Am I that transparent?”

“Beneath the wrapping, Midas’s gift is no different. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it is. That he is.”

“I accept him for who and what he is, Bish.”

And miracle of miracles, he returned the favor.

“And the pack? Their laws? Their customs? Their traditions?”

“It’s a work in progress.” I twisted my lips. “I can’t and won’t stomp on their beliefs because they’re not mine. I can’t ask them to change a fundamental part of who they are for my comfort. I get that. All of that. I’m struggling to move my line in the sand a little farther out than it used to go.”

“Then you’re on the right path.” He dropped his arm. “I would worry if you said it was easy.”

“Nothing in my life is ever that.” I laughed under my breath. “Are you coming out with me tonight?”

“Do you really have to ask?” He glanced over his shoulder toward the command center. “Milo is going to shadow us, see if he picks up anything I missed.” He led the way out of HQ. “I don’t expect him to find anything.”

“Because you’re that good?”

“Because there’s nothing to find.” He locked up behind us. “The bomber is acting on intel they overhear at the Faraday, not what they glean from tailing you. That’s my working theory. They know you’d spot them, or that Midas would scent them. It would be risky, and the coven has proven they’re risk averse.”

I didn’t call Bishop out for glossing over possible OPA involvement. It was nice to pretend with him, for a few hours anyway, that our team was untouchable. That the people under our protection were safe.

“Their numbers are dwindling. That could make them reckless.”

“True.” He led the way out of the parking garage and down to the street. “Or it might make them think.”

“Thinking is bad for us.” I hated smart enemies. “Thinking means they’re a step ahead of us.”

“They’ve been that since Choco-Loco burned. Before then, really. This puts them two or three ahead.”

“Oddly enough, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“I like having you around, kid.” He ruffled my

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