Page 12 of Enemies By Fate

The corners of her mouth turn inward, but she doesn’t raise her head.

“Are you a witch?” Malachi demands. “Who the hell are you? Did someone send you?”

His rapid-fire questions makemeuneasy. I can only imagine what they’re doing to her.

“She’s a shifter,” Warrick insists. “But you’re not a white wolf. We’re too rare—and you looked too much like me.”

I see her eying me through her peripheral vision as if I’m going to save her in some way.

Sorry, kid. You picked the wrong brother to help you out of this mess,I muse.

All the same, I want to know about her.

“Do you know who we are?” I ask her slowly, inching closer across the boardroom.

She scoffs, and her response surprises me, just like it does my brothers.

“She’s quite disrespectful, isn’t she?” Malachi hisses, slapping his hands over the surface of the table furiously.

Poppy flinches with the gesture.

“Malachi,” I murmur, holding up a hand, my eyes still fixed on her. “Do you? Do you know who we are?”

“The Bloodstone brothers—the Apex Alphas of Tennessee,” she mutters, finally lifting her chin to meet my eyes. “I know who you are.”

“How do you know us? Are you a member of a pack here in Tennessee?” I prompt.

She gnaws nervously on the insides of her cheeks and shakes her head.

“Are you a shifter?” I urge, sensing my brothers’ rising displeasure.

The more evasive she is, the worse this is going to be for her.

“You better start talking, sweetie,” Malachi drawls, circling around her contemptuously. “Or we’re just going to throw you back in the cells with the other prisoners. I bet they’ll enjoy having a pretty thing like you after all these years in solitude.”

I give my younger brother a reproving look, but his threat terrifies Poppy enough to get her speaking some.

“I don’t know what I am!” she blurts out. “I’m not a witch!”

It’s a start, but it doesn’t answer our questions.

“You’re a shifter,” Warrick concludes.

“No… well, yes,” she mumbles, slinking lower in her chair as if she wants to disappear.

“Yes or no?” Malachi hisses, towering over her.

“Malachi,” I sigh again.

“She’s being evasive!” my younger brother explodes. “On purpose!”

Warrick and I exchange a look, and he intercepts Malachi’s forceful approach, leading our baby brother toward a nearby chair as I gently continue the interrogation.

“You’ll have to elaborate on what you mean,” I tell her. “How can you be a shifter and not a shifter? We all saw you shift at the bonfire. And if you’re not performing some kind of dark magic?—”

“It’s not dark magic. I genuinely shifted!” Desperately, she looks around, the desire to escape naked in her eyes, but I silently will her to be calm, to not make any stupid moves. I can’t attest to what Malachi might do if she reacts badly when he’s already on edge.

“What did you shift into on your fifteenth birthday?” Warrick asks, sensing my concerns.

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