Page 44 of The Runaway Mate

Derek shook his head. “A witness identified Carson Hodges running away from the scene.”

Carson was one of our enforcers. He was older, probably in his late fifties, and his weathered face bore the marks of time. He was more comfortable on the periphery of the Pack than in the middle of it. He was a good enforcer, observant but didn’t crave the spotlight or push himself to the frontlines unless he was needed. His presence was always reliable, and he liked to train the new enforcers. He was the steady heartbeat beneath the often hectic and chaotic lives of the trainees, molding them into a fighting force with his calm manner and strict regimes.

Carson kept his own company, more by choice than circumstance, shunning Pack gatherings unless his role as an enforcer required it. But I had never taken him for a violent man. He was reliable in fights, never letting the adrenaline go to his head, never getting carried away or going too far. He did what needed to be done, not because he enjoyed it but because the Pack demanded it. That’s what made him an excellent trainer.

I tapped my finger on the photos. “Where is this?”

“It’s at the north end of Dunlavey Road.”

“That’s what? About a mile from the boundary line between us and the Bridgetown Pack and three miles from Carson’s cabin?”

Derek nodded.

“Have you talked to Carson yet?” I asked, my mind whirling with questions and worst-case scenarios.

“I spoke to him before I came over,” he said, his voice steady but the worry evident in his eyes. “He swears he didn’t commit the murders.”

“Does he have an alibi?”

“He claims he was doing some solitary hunting. He says he didn’t cross into Bridgetown’s land.”

“And no one can vouch for him?”

“He was alone the whole time. You know how he likes to go up there to relax. He didn’t see or scent anyone else.”

An uneasy silence fell over us. Jem turned to me, his gaze probing. “Thoughts, Ryan?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “Either we’ve badly misjudged Carson, and we’ve got a murderer among us,” I started, “or this is a setup. Michael and Camile might be using Carson as a pawn to stir up trouble and give Bridgetown an excuse to invade.”

Neither scenario sat well with me. We were a family, and the thought of Carson doing this stung more than any outside attack. But if it was Michael and Camile, it meant we had a much bigger problem on our hands.

Chapter thirty-one

Ryan

Ipushed back the chair, the sound loud in the quiet room. Standing, I moved to the window, staring out at the quiet street that lay bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The peaceful sight did nothing to calm the storm brewing within me.

“I don’t buy it,” I said, turning back to face them. “Carson’s not the type. He’s reliable. Keeps to himself, yes, but he’s never shown any signs of being… unstable.” The word left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“And yet here we are,” Jem replied, his eyes meeting mine. The weight of his gaze told me he didn’t believe it either, but as our Alpha, he had to consider every possibility.

I paced the room, my wolf agitated beneath my skin.

“Has anyone else talked to Carson?” I asked.

Derek shook his head, his face solemn. “I was the only one. He said he’s been alone for the last few days.”

There was that word again. Alone. It echoed in my head, a stark reminder of the position we found ourselves in. One of our own accused, with no alibi. A setup or a murderer—either way, we were in a precarious situation.

I stared at Derek, my mind churning. “Let’s say it’s a setup,” I began. “If Michael is doing this to provoke a war, then we need to find proof. We can’t sit idle and wait for him to make his move.”

Derek nodded. “Agreed. But we need to tread carefully. Any wrong move could lead to a confrontation we are not yet ready for.”

Jem’s gaze was calculating, his Alpha authority permeating the room. “We need to find out more about the humans who were killed. Who they were, if they had any connection to Carson, or if they were random victims.”

I picked up the file again, opening it to the pictures. Two young men, full of life, now reduced to gruesome crime scene photos. We owed it to them to find out who had done this. “Derek, I want you to head to Bridgetown tomorrow. Ask around. Check with your asset. See what you can find out about these victims.”

Derek nodded, grabbing the file. His gaze was steely, determination etched in every line of his face.

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