Page 84 of What a Wolf Demands

“Well, better luck next time.”

“She won’t have to wait long. He and a contingent of Hunters are already en route to the Lodge, and they’re being awfully noisy about demanding justice for Charlie LaFont.”

Anger surged in Dom’s chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Check your voicemail, Dominic. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all night.”

Dom clenched his jaw. It wasn’t like he could argue with that, given his habit of never checking his phone.

Plus, he’d been a little busy last night.

Remy went on. “So we’re operating under the assumption that Gregoire Levesque is dead.”

They could be almost certain of it. Alphas didn’t step down peacefully, and they didn’t retire. When leadership changed hands, it was because the previous Alpha died of old age or lost a dominance challenge.

Or, in Levesque’s case, found themselves on the receiving end of a murder.

“Thibeaux is too dumb to pull off a coup,” Dom told Remy. “In the basement, he seemed to take direction from another wolf.”

“Paul Guyon,” Remy said. “His father is the mayor of Bon Rêve. According to our intel, the Guyon and Levesque families have never been friendly.”

Irritation flared in Dom’s mind. The damn loup-garou and their politics. It was a miracle they hadn’t bickered and backstabbed their way to extinction. And poor Lily had grown up in the middle of it.

His heart squeezed. He couldn’t let Thibeaux get near her. But how could he shield her when that asshole was technically her new Alpha? Hell, they were due to board a plane in two hours—a flight that would take them straight to Thibeaux and the trial she’d been trying to avoid.

He bit back a growl. “Thibeaux slit that bar owner’s throat in front of me. That’s a crime.”

“And one he’ll answer for,” Remy said. “But we have to step carefully here, Dom. You know that.”

“Murder is murder. Our laws have to count for something.”

Remy drew in a breath. “Yes. But Lily has no connection to the New York Territory. We have to be mindful of the scrutiny we’re likely to get from other territories. She’s been accused of LaFont’s murder—”

“She’s innocent.”

“But—”

“It was an accident.”

Remy went quiet.

The hairs on Dom’s nape lifted. Telepaths couldn’t read minds. But Remy Arsenault was a master at reading people—especially those he loved.

He spoke now, a tinge of suspicion in his voice. “Lily doesn’t have a connection to the New York Territory. Right, Dom?”

Dom let the blinds drop and stepped away from the window. He cleared his throat. “Not that I know of.”

“That’s not a no.”

Dammit. Damn Remy and his nose for gossip.

Remy let out a low, delighted chuckle. “Tiens, tiens . . .”

Dom recognized the French equivalent of “well, well, well.”

Goddamn French.

The satisfaction in Remy’s voice grew. “No wonder you haven’t been answering your phone.”

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