Page 23 of The Renegade Mate

I could see the struggle in Ryan’s eyes, the battle between anger and understanding. I knew he wanted to lash out, to make Ivan see reason, but he also knew that anger wouldn’t solve anything.

“We will earn your trust,” Ryan finally said, his voice steady and resolute. “We will prove that we are friends to the Bridgetown Pack, but you need to fight smarter, Ivan, before you get someone killed.”

With a final, lingering glance at Michael, whose silence spoke volumes, Ivan turned and walked away.

“I’ll have a word with Ivan,” Michael said, watching his enforcer leave. “He is fiercely protective of his Pack, which is an attribute I highly value, but he can make mistakes, like today. He joined our Pack five years ago. His birth Pack was killed by a werewolf gang who infiltrated it, wanting the territory for their own. The gang injured one of their own, and he claimed sanctuary from Ivan’s old Alpha. It was granted, but it was all a ruse. As soon as the werewolf was fit enough, he opened all the gates and let his gang in. Ivan was one of the few survivors. He is fantastically loyal to this Pack, but he doesn’t trust easily, and he sees plots where there aren’t any. And now, with what has happened with Tristan and Elise, Ivan is even more paranoid than usual.”

I looked over at Ryan. Trust. Ivan was right. It was a fragile thing, easily broken, hard to rebuild. But it was vital. It was the foundation of everything we were trying to achieve.

And if I wanted this to work, we would have to build it, stone by stone, no matter how long it took.

Chapter thirteen

Mai

Ryan grinned as he slid the saltshaker just an inch away from my reach, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You want this?”

“Seriously?” I laughed, stretching over to snag it back, but not before my other hand darted out, snatching a piece of his bacon.

He looked at his plate, then back at me, feigning betrayal. “That was my last piece!”

I chuckled as I salted my eggs. “Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, or you’d never get away with keeping the salt hostage.”

“You’re one to talk about being cute while committing bacon theft.”

Just as I was starting to think mornings could always be this easy, this good, our cozy bubble burst. Michael and Danni walked in. I didn’t need wolf senses to know something was up.

“Morning, Mai, Ryan,” Michael greeted. “Mind if we interrupt?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “It will keep Ryan from stealing the salt.”

Michael smiled but got straight to the point. “We’ve got something on ripple. A werewolf named Noreen Hunting has reached out to us about her sister. Apparently, the sister is hooked on ripple. We’re just headed out to go and see them. Interested?”

I exchanged a quick glance with Ryan, seeing my own curiosity mirrored in his eyes.

“We’re in,” Ryan said.

We pulled up in front of an apartment building. The area lacked the gleam of affluence—no doormen, no flashy cars parked along the curb—but it was far from rundown. Neat rows of modest homes and small businesses lined the streets, telling the story of a middle-class neighborhood that took pride in its appearance. The apartment building itself was well-kept, with cute flower boxes on the balconies, their blooms lending splashes of color to the otherwise nondescript structure.

Danni led us inside. The lobby was clean, its walls freshly painted in a soft, welcoming green, and there was a small table near the entrance with a vase of fresh lilies, their petals still vibrant. A community bulletin board hung on one wall, its cork surface covered with neatly arranged announcements for neighborhood events, lost pets, and local services. Every detail—from the polished floor to the lack of clutter—spoke to a building well cared for by its residents.

Danni pressed the button on the elevator for the fifth floor.

“We’re here to see Arabella Hunting,” Danni said as the doors opened, and we stepped inside. “She’s nineteen, works in advertising, and lives here with her sister Noreen. Noreen contacted me this morning. She’s really worried—says Arabella has been on ripple for about two weeks now.”

The elevator gave a soft “ding,” its doors gliding open on the fifth floor. The hallway was narrow, the carpet a muted shade of gray that had clearly been vacuumed recently. Framed prints decorated the walls at regular intervals, giving a homely touch.

“We’re almost there. Brace yourselves; this could be rough,” Danni warned as she led the way.

Danni stopped in front of number 365. She knocked, the sound echoing a soft thud-thud against the wood. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal a young woman, mid-twenties at most, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes were tired, dark circles marring her otherwise pretty face. Her dark blond hair was tied in a hurried braid, loose strands framing her face.

“Hey, Danni,” she said, her voice tinged with both relief and apprehension.

“Noreen, good to see you,” Danni replied. She gestured to us. “This is Mai and Ryan; they’re from the Three Rivers Pack. Mai, Ryan, this is Noreen, Arabella’s sister.”

Noreen extended a hand, first to me and then to Ryan. “Nice to meet you,” she said, although her body language suggested “nice” was not currently in her vocabulary.

“Likewise,” I replied.

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