Page 65 of Ruthless Moon

They really don’t like each other.

Dave Gallagher and his wife sit on Oliver’s other side.

A caterer passes by right in front of me with an entire chafing dish of lobster macaroni and cheese.

Then it hits me—a whiff of danger nearly buried in the scent of the ordinary. My nostrils flare, singling out the lethal scent. Water hemlock. The little sprigs of white flowers are sprinkled across the top of the dish along with a variety of other green herbs. It’s not something most would recognize. I only know the scent because my brothers and I grew up friends with the witches in the court. We spent so much time with Alice, Lila’s daughter. Lila spent countless hours drilling us on potions and poultices. She said it was useful information and everyone should learn it.

Apparently she was right.

My heart buckles, adrenaline pumping like wild river rapids through my veins. I surge forward, zeroing in on Gen as she raises her fork to her lips.

The world sharpens to a single point of focus. I reach for her hand, my voice erupting with a stark warning that shatters the veneer of the extremely uncomfortable dinner conversation.

Water hemlock can kill a human from skin contact alone. Eating it? I don’t even want to imagine what that might look like, wolf or not.

“Don’t eat anything!”

The room freezes. The tinkling of silverware on fine china halts. A champagne flute shatters on the floor.

Everyone is silent for a half a second. Then like the thunderous rumble of an avalanche, pandemonium breaks loose.

“Why not?” Oliver roars, leaping to his feet, his eyes narrowing on his untouched plate. I’m surprised at the look of genuine shock on his face.

I point to the innocent-looking garnish on the macaroni and cheese in front of Gen. “Hemlock,” I say, the word a sharp stab in the room’s uneasy murmurings. “The food is poisoned.”

“That’s insane!” the chef shouts, rising from behind the buffet table to the left. His face flushes red, matching his tie, his spit flying with the force of his outrage. “How dare you accuse me of something like that? My reputation, my livelihood, rests on this business, and your baseless rumors will ruin me.”

His anger is genuine, as real as the disbelief painting his features. But the staff...the staff is a different story. They tremble like aspen leaves in a summer storm. I smell their fear and guilt seeping into the air.

Oliver smells it too. His eyes flicker with recognition.

A soft, terrified voice breaks the rising tension, whispering words that sound more like a confession than an apology. “I’m so sorry, he said he’d kill us,” a woman says. She’s small, her body folded against the floor like a crumpled napkin.

A harsh hiss cuts through the air from somewhere across the room. “Shut up!”

The room tenses as Darcy saunters in, waving a pistol in the air. Then, without warning, he fires, the deafening shot echoing through the room.

Instinct and adrenaline surge together, my wolf propelling me toward the one life I can’t bear to lose—Gen. I wrench her from her chair, wheeling her away from Darcy’s deadly aim, and use my body as a shield against the rising panic in the room.

Another gunshot rips through the air, deafening, final, and the dull thud of a body hitting the ground follows.

The room plunges into a stunned silence.

Daring a glance, my heart constricts with pity as I lock onto the sightless eyes of the female server, the life snuffed out of her as quickly as her confession had filled the room. Gen trembles in my arms but doesn’t move. I hold her tighter, wishing there was a way to hide her completely.

Darcy’s voice bellows through the chaos. “You cost me everything, you bastard!” Another shot. Another flesh-meets-bullet thud. But no one falls.

Gen is frozen in my arms, while Aiden crouches right beside me, his mother tucked safely in his grasp.

But Darcy isn’t aiming at us. Not yet. He’s killing the catering staff.

“If you had been more of a man, you wouldn’t have let me take it.” Oliver’s words are acidic, his barbs intended to wound, incite. “Take his gun and hold him.” He gives the order and I hear several of his enforcers move toward the gunman.

Two more shots punctuate the air, but Oliver’s men keep walking.

Darcy is a fool.

Any advantage he might have had at the beginning is lost. The element of surprise has long since faded and wolves are much better at being predators than prey.

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