Page 53 of Savage Claim

Ice ran through my veins as the realization hit me. This was explaining the formation of The Collective Hunt.

Why were these pages stuffed into this book?

I glanced around for a hidden camera. I rarely believed in coincidences, and finding this right now couldn’t be random. Someone had put these pages in here as if they knew I was looking into the pack’s history.

Was it Valeria? Was her loopy personality all an act? Was she trying to help me discover the truth?

As I continued to read, sweat rolled down my nape, and I expected Barric to catch me any moment. Hansel Reamer, a wolf shifter, was the founder of the racist group, and at first, they only tried preventing other shifters from turning humans, even if it was their fated mate.

My stomach soured as I learned about Hansel’s thirst for purity. Eventually, they donned masks and would infiltrate villages at night, slaughtering bitten shifters. And then they’d started murdering any human offspring too. Hansel made alliances with witches to assist them in their cause.

Why would witches care about shifter bloodlines? What did Hansel offer them in return for their help?

Lost in thought, I missed the approaching footsteps and jumped when a deep, rich voice broke the usual silence in the archives.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Tate.”

My hand flew to my chest over my racing heart as the alpha of the Blackwater Falls pack stood a few feet away, his tall form dwarfing the space. “Saint?”

A smile pulled at his pillowy lips and brightened his gunmetal-gray eyes. “You remember me.”

“Of course.” How could I forget the smoking hot young alpha who hit on me after a meeting in Mohan Wilds? Fane almost tore his throat out, and that was when the demon shifter really wanted to kill me. “What are you doing here?”

He strolled forward and took a seat across from me, the rickety wooden chair groaning under his weight. As he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, colorful tattoos inking his arms showed. “I heard what happened.” His focus lowered to my torso where the stab wound dug into my flesh. “Barric told me you had quite the scare.”

“Oh.” My brows knit as I studied him, the two rings on his right index and ring finger catching the light from the nearby lamp. Why would Saint care? He barely even knew me. “So you just came all the way to Silver Ridge to see me?” Remembering the sensitive information I was reading, I casually slid the old pages under my arm.

Saint had been the one to point out that only bitten shifters were being taken, but for all I knew, that could have been part of some elaborate plan. He could be besties with Barric.

“Not exactly.” A faint blush crept into Saint’s cheeks, and he averted his eyes as he palmed the back of his neck, tugging on his ebony curls. “I was passing through town after visiting some other packs and thought I’d stop by to see you.”

Something about the young alpha caused my defenses to falter, and instead of accusing him of lying, I reined in my defensive side. “That was nice of you.”

His gaze lifted to mine, going from gray to liquid-silver pools in seconds. Even though I had no idea how old Fane was, I could tell Saint was younger. He hadn’t lived through years, maybe decades, of pain and torment like the demon shifter had. But there was still a layer of sadness clinging to him.

“You’re not totally creeped out by this random guy paying you a visit?”

A laugh slipped out, and some of the tension still twisting in my muscles vanished. “Not totally.” I held my thumb and forefinger together. “Only a little.”

Saint’s teeth flashed as he unleashed a dazzling smile that nearly stole my breath, and if I wasn’t hopelessly obsessed with Fane Maverick, I might have melted in my seat. “That makes me feel less stupid. I can take a little creeped out.” His attention lowered to the desk, and before I could stop him, he reached out and plucked one of the papers out from under my arm. “This looks old. What is it?”

When I tried to snatch it back, Saint yanked it out of my reach. “Just something I found.”

The smile quickly faded from his handsome face. “Why are you researching The Collective?”

“I’m not,” I lied. “Those pages were stuck in this book.”

Deep lines developed across his forehead as he passed me back the page. “You should be careful looking into that group.”

“Why? They’re not around anymore, right?”

Saint let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, right.”

I rested my hand on his arm and tilted my head to peer into his eyes. “Do you think otherwise?”

“I know otherwise.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, tousling the curls even more. “They attacked my mom a few years ago.”

My jaw slackened, and any suspicions I had of Saint being involved fell away. “What happened?”

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