Page 91 of Enticing Monsters

What the hell is Foster’s father doing here at the FIB?

Is he wondering where his son has disappeared to?

“Anderson. It’s nice to see you,” I greet, already preparing an excuse for Foster’s extended absence.

He should be arriving home at any moment now.

God, I miss my family.

I miss Sera.

I curl my hand into a fist on my desk at just the thought of my missing mate. She’s quite literally an entire world apart from me, and I’ve never felt the distance so keenly before.

I force myself to focus on the man shifting from foot to foot in front of me. Sera’s fine. My brother’s fine. Kian and Foster are fine.

Taking a deep breath, inflating my lungs with air, I steeple my hands on the top of my desk. “What can I do for you?”

Anderson’s once thick hair has thinned to little more than wisps, the color more gray than black in most places. He’s thinner than I remember him to be, his white skin so pale I can see each individual vein. His collarbone protrudes in a way that can’t be healthy.

“He’s gone, right? The killer’s gone?” Anderson begins to tug at the bottom of his stained shirt, his wild eyes flicking around my office as if he half expects someone to jump out of the shadows and stab him.

I’ve been told by Foster that Anderson is prone to hysteric fits, but I’ve never seen one for myself before. The poor man’s mind broke with the death of his wife and fated mate. He’s merely a shell of the vibrant man he once was.

I furrow my brows. “Yes. He’s gone. He won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Anderson’s thin body begins to shake. “What about the other one? The one he killed for?”

I freeze. “What do you mean?”

“Is she still out there? You can’t let her hurt the queen. You can’t let her steal her power.” Abruptly, Anderson lunges forward and slams his hand down on my desk, rattling papers and my framed photograph of Sera.

“Queen Marianna? She’s fine.” For now.

I have a feeling that she may be the attacker’s next target. It would make sense, after all. Already, the council is out of commission, the princess is in a coma, and the crowned prince is on his deathbed. It’s why the FIB assigned a dozen guards to both Avril and Queen Marianna.

And if the attacker is someone close to the royal family…

“No. No. No.” Anderson slaps his fist against his forehead and begins to shake his head adamantly. “You don’t understand. Nobody understands me.”

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll grab you a cup of water?—”

Anderson drops his arm back to his side and whirls on me, his features flushed with anger. “You’re not listening to me! She’s going to attack again?—”

“Who?” I stand from the chair and move around my desk.

I’m significantly taller than Anderson this way, but he doesn’t shrink away from me. He juts his chin in the air with stubborn determination, his green eyes flaring.

“Do you know who’s behind all of this?”

“She has power. Lots of power. Her latest kill assured that?—”

“Her latest kill?”

Anderson grabs the front of my shirt with a surprising amount of strength for such a tiny man. “You saw the symbol in the pit. You know what it can do.”

I could break both of his wrists in less than a second, but I don’t want to do that. While a part of me rebels against being manhandled, a greater part hangs on every word he says.

“I don’t understand?—”

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