Page 11 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Moira was pretty confident that Vera had long ago built a sky-high tolerance to caffeine, and her double-strength brew was the only thing that made her feel a jolt. That’s why she doubled up on the cream and sugar at Vera’s house.

“What happened on the green?” Moira had a bad feeling about it, whatever it was.

Adria sighed, setting her coffee down on the island. “Someone tried to chop down the tree.”

The tree. It didn’t need further specification, they all knew she meant the heart tree at the center of the Rosewood town. It was more than just a tree to the Rosewoods, it was a sacred space, a symbol of power, a piece of magic that bound the pack to the land and the land to the pack.

Adria looked close to tears as she went on, her voice wavering. “The axe was still stuck in the trunk when I went by to tend the tree this morning, and the bark had been mangled by previous swings. I guess when they swung hard, it got wedged in, and whoever it was abandoned it there.”

Vera slammed her fist down on the counter, making their mugs jump. “What kind of monster would do something like that? We’ll string them up by their toenails from a branch once we find them.”

Moira gaped at her sister. “Wow, Vera. That’s a little gruesome.”

But she understood the feeling behind her sister’s words, the disquiet that came with the image Adria had put in their mind. What kind of monster would attack their tree? She could imagine one.

Adria placed her hand over Vera’s clenched fist. Even unsettled as she was, she still brought comfort to others. “We’ll find them, and while we won’t be stringing anyone up by their toenails, I’m sure we’ll find a suitable punishment.”

She couldn’t remember something like this ever happening in their town before. It was peaceful, perfect, close-knit. No Rosewood would ever hurt the heart tree, so who had?

Moira could feel Vera practically vibrating with anger and indignation. She almost felt sorry for whoever had attacked the tree, if Vera did get ahold of them.

“You’re the best tracker we have,” Adria said to Vera. “We’re going to get a group together to find whoever did this. Will you help us?”

Vera nodded. “Of course. I’ll find whoever it is and rip them to shreds.”

Moira fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her sister was more bark than bite, even as a wolf, preferring not to get her hands dirty. Then again, her bark held more than enough bite of its own. Moira had been on the receiving end of it too many times to deny that.

“I’m coming too,” Moira said. She had to know where the trail ended. If her hunch was right, it’d lead them right to her childhood bully.

Vera shook her head, catching hold of Moira’s arm. “No way. It could be dangerous. I’m not letting my sister come along when we’re chasing after some axe-wielding, tree-chopping psychopath.”

“He’s not axe-wielding anymore,” Moira pointed out, yanking her arm free. “Go get dressed. No psychopath is going to be afraid of someone in their pajamas.”

They stared each other down, neither of them blinking. Vera had never gotten over the fact that Moira had grown up and no longer followed and did everything Vera told her to. The audacity of it still rankled Vera.

It was Adria who saved them. “We’ll wait, Vera, but we really should hurry. Spencer is chomping at the bit to go.”

With a final glare at Moira, Vera stomped upstairs. They could hear her yanking open drawers and slamming them shut again.

“Is the tree going to be okay?” Moira asked as they waited.

“I think so,” Adria said. “Spencer pulled the axe out. It came out easily for him. There was a gouge, but it wasn’t too deep, and the three were strong, you know. It will recover.”

Moira hoped that was true. She’d visit the tree later and see it for herself, but first, they had to find the bastard that had done it. Why had they done it? To weaken the pack, seemed the most obvious answer, and that had the mark of the White Winter pack all over it.

The tentative truce they’d signed not long ago had been met with skepticism from most of the Rosewoods, but they’d hoped that the White Winters had meant what they’d promised. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that Jonah had shown up just before the incident, a White Winter himself.

Vera clomped down the stairs, dressed, her previously unruly, shoulder-length hair brushed smooth. “Let’s go get this monster.”

The sunny morning she’d woken to have vanished during her time inside Vera’s. Grey clouds gathered overhead with the promise of rain in their dark bellies. Moira could smell it on the wind, that sweet, heavy scent. She was grateful for her sweater, the wool keeping her warm on the walk to the town green.

“When I get my hands on that guy,” Vera was muttering under her breath beside Moira, her long legs eating up the ground.

Her sister was a fast walker even when there was nowhere they needed to hurry to, and doubly so when she was on a mission. It was all Moira and Adria could do to keep up. Not that she wanted to be too close, with her sister mumbling like that, her blue eyes dark with rage.

“I can not believe someone lets her near them with a scalpel,” Moira whispered to Adria, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s a miracle she has any vet techs left, and they haven’t run screaming with terror yet.”

“Maybe she drugs them,” Adria replied, equally hushed. “They’re all anesthetized before the blades come out.”

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