Page 31 of Savage Claim

He reached up to wipe it away. “Uh, no, it’s paint.”

A faint copper hint permeated the air around him. “Liar. I smell blood.”

Fane ignored me, his jaw tightening, sharpening his face. “Tell me what the hell you were doing in Barric’s office,” he demanded, brushing off my accusation.

“Have you ever heard of The Collective Hunt?”

His head snapped back. “Yeah, but it’s not around anymore.”

“You sure?”

“There’s been no sign of them for decades.”

My fingers curled around his wrist, and I tugged him from the alcove. “I think they might still be around, and Barric could be in it.”

Fane allowed me to tow him upstairs and deeper into the mansion, my hand still wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he didn’t notice it.

Or maybe he enjoyed it.

A girl could dream, right?

Once we stood in front of the painting, I pointed out the symbol. “There.”

“It’s a painting of Barric. So what?”

I scoffed and jabbed my finger at the marking. “The symbol of a tree, the one belonging to The Collective, is in his painting.”

He finally pulled out of my grasp and stared at the corner where I pointed, his tongue toying with his lip piercing. “I don’t see anything, Teague.”

My mouth gaped. “It’s clear as day. Right fucking there.”

The demon shifter shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t see anything.”

How could I see it and not Fane? It didn’t make sense. Chills skated across my shoulders as I recalled the moment in the archives when I asked Ruin about it. Apparently, he hadn’t seen it either. Neither had Logan. They only mentioned the page about Barric’s son.

So why could I see it? What was different about me?

I moved to the next painting that hung above the wainscoting in one of the many halls of Silver Ridge’s compound, searching for a glimpse of that tree with twisting branches and roots. How many people could see that mark in Barric’s painting and on his desk? Obviously, Valeria could, but shouldn’t there be more suspicion around the head alpha if a symbol belonging to a hate group was found in his house, on his personal property?

Unless, of course, it wasn’t visible to most of the pack.

My teeth ground, and a huff burst out as my boots stomped on the hardwoods. After spending hours perusing the house, I found no other hints of The Collective Hunt. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. And maybe I was simply reaching.

Did I really think Barric was part of some secret group of elitist pricks? He was the head alpha of Georga for shit’s sake. Someone would have discovered that little detail about him by now. And there were plenty of bitten shifters in his pack.

Still, I had to keep looking to satisfy this obsession. Barric could be like a lot of people in my life, a complete asshole under his nice mask.

I descended the huge staircase, running my hand over the burnished banister to feel for any symbols carved into the wood. Two female shifters sat on the comfy leather couch in the living room, talking and sipping coffee. Their conversation halted when I entered the room, and they watched me awkwardly meander through.

Could I really blame them? Being tied to the infamous Fane Maverick had put a spotlight on me.

I turned down one of the many corridors branching off the main living room, studying the baroque wallpaper for hidden symbols as my boots sank into the thick carpet runner. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get lost in this maze again.

A door opened, and Jax popped out, his eyes widening briefly before that usual charming smile settled over his face. “What are you doing down here, Tate? Last I saw, you were knee-deep in books in the archives. I thought you’d be there all day.”

“I needed a break.”

“Right.” He nodded and rubbed the scruff on his jaw. “Uh, listen, do me a favor and stay out of the east wing on the first floor.”

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