Page 47 of Burning Embers

“Yes,” my father agrees in that cold, no-nonsense voice of his. “Anything else?”

I move around the body until I finally see the strange symbol painted onto the back of her neck—a single red X inside of a small circle.

The Hunters’ symbol.

“Her name’s Larissa,” Father begins as I continue to scan the body and small shed. “She moved here a few weeks ago with her pack. They reported her missing late last night. Apparently, her last known location was an unofficial fight club run by a human.”

“And how far away is the fight club from here?” I finally reach into my pockets and tug on a pair of gloves. Then, I move her blood-streaked hair away from her face so I can study her for injuries.

There are no bruises around her neck, indicating that her attacker didn’t choke her. I wonder how he got the jump on her, then. Shifters are significantly stronger than any human, both male and female alike. It seems strange to me that someone would be able to overpower her.

“About fifteen miles to the north,” Father tells me.

“So he must’ve brought her body here,” I deduce. “Was she dead before or after she entered this shed?”

My question is aimed more at myself than at my father. I know he won’t respond to me, even if he does know the answer.

Not when he’s training me and my pack to take over for him.

There are over one hundred packs in the town, each one ranging from two members to ten, sometimes even more. Father is a part of the Council—a group of wolf shifters who maintain the peace between all of the varying packs. Originally, that position was held by my father, his Heart, and his packmates. But when my mother and my other fathers passed away…

I swallow around the razor blade that seems to have become lodged in my throat.

Shoving all thoughts of my parents to the back of my mind, I focus instead on the female before me. I’ve never met her before, but that doesn’t mean her death doesn’t hurt. Any loss of life stings like a bitch. I can’t even imagine what her packmates must be going through. If I were to find my fated mate and lose her, I’d go insane.

I inhale yet again and squeeze my eyelids shut. After a moment, I open them and pierce my father with a look.

“She was moved here after death,” I say at last.

The blood in the shed isn’t fresh, and the stench of decay is nearly overwhelming.

My father’s lips twitch, though they don’t ever grow into a full-fledged smile. “Very good.”

I straighten and follow my father out of the shed. Father gives a brief nod to the police officer on the scene—a fellow wolf shifter—before leading me towards the black SUV parked nearby.

The shed Larissa was found in is directly beside a large, nondescript farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. The couple who owns the house—a retired husband and wife in their late sixties—has been in Florida the last two months on an extended vacation. Obviously whoever stashed the body here knew that fact and hoped Larissa wouldn’t be discovered for a few extra weeks. And the murderer might’ve gotten away with it if thegardener hadn’t stopped by the shed to retrieve the hedge clippers he left behind.

“Isn’t this the second person to be killed at this fighting ring?” I query as I fold my arms over my chest and stare at my father.

He gives a derisive snort. “Are you talking about that human girl?” He shakes his head. “You know we don’t worry about matters that involve the humans.”

“You don’t think they’re related?” I furrow my brows, though I quickly try to straighten out my expression before he can notice, maintaining the apathetic mask I’ve perfected over the years.

Father told me that last night, a woman was found abandoned in a cornfield a few miles away from some sort of fight club with her neck snapped. When I asked if we were going to get involved, he laughed heartily and told me what he had just repeated now.

“We don’t worry about matters that involve the humans.”

I wonder if Father was too quick to dismiss the connection.

Two women killed on the same night at the same location? One human and one shifter? I don’t normally believe in coincidences, only facts, but this is too strange for me to dismiss.

Of course, I don’t dare voice my thoughts out loud. I may be training to take over my father’s position on the esteemed Council, but I’m not in control yet. He’ll beat me black and blue if I dare to contradict him, especially in front of his so-called “inferiors.”

Father opens his mouth to respond to my question but immediately snaps it shut when a bright-orange Volkswagen barrels down the dirt driveway and squeals to a stop beside my father’s SUV.

Father’s lips purse as if he just ate something sour.

“Matthew,” he greets as the driver’s side door opens and a tall, balding man steps out.

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