“He was a source of information,” Dad eventually says.
“He was a threat to Aerin,” Mack responds calmly. “We need to know if any other packs have been affected. Ivy and my dad have stopped several attempts in Virginia. I assume nothing has happened in Minnesota.”
I bounce my gaze between Mack and the phone.
Mack is the most easygoing and calm shifter I’ve ever known. Yet, in a handful of words, he’s taken control of the conversation and directed my dad with ease.
My dad chuckles. “I don’t know why I keep underestimating you.”
I take Mack’s hand and squeeze. “Because you’re used to people shouting over you or being aggressive. Mack makes sense.”
“We’ve had no trouble here,” Dad says after a thoughtful pause. “I’d have Moses call some of the Alphas I know, but some will speak only to me, especially since this concerns such a sensitive subject.”
“What you mean is they will assume you might have something to do with their omega going missing and they will want to know—from you—that you had nothing to do with it?” I guess.
When Dad doesn’t respond, the answer must be yes.
“I’ll call you in thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Keep the phone close.” Dad hangs up, and Mack and I study each other.
“Why do I have a feeling that when he calls back we’re going to run out of pins to stick in that map?” I ask.
We eat as we wait, and Bennett soon returns from escorting Clary out of Winter Lake.
“He didn’t cause any trouble,” Bennett says, taking a seat at the table. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s involved in this.”
“Me either,” I agree.
The phone vibrates, Mack answering it before I can.
Dad sighs. “I really wish you had kept that shifter around. He might have information others don’t.”
That doesn’t sound good. “What did you find out?”
“That an unknown pack is out there determined to make a name for themselves, and they intend to do it by taking omegas,” he says.
“But why?” I ask Dad.
“No one knows,” he responds. “Could be hostages. Could be some other reason.”
“How many packs?” Mack asks.
“Do you have a map and a notebook?” Dad asks.
“Yes.” I’m ready with a pen.
“Moses, go. Maybe we’ll spot a pattern in the packs who have been targeted,” my dad says.
And we do. Almost all the packs in the Midwest have been hit. Not all had their omegas taken, but most did. While Dad hasn’t been able to speak to all the Alphas from the region, the ones he spoke to confirmed they had.
Unknown shifters, aggressive, unfamiliar and clearly trained, hit them, and their omega was gone almost before they knew she was missing.
“So, who is doing it?” I ask.
“That, Aerin, is the big question,” my dad says. “If we know who, maybe we’ll also learn why.”
It’s the middle of a bright, sunny day.
I grin as I follow the sounds of high-pitched screams and outraged yells outside.