Page 17 of Black Moon

“I know who you are.”

“Really? Nifty. I’m not used to having much of a reputation. I assume you’re Juniper Grove?”

She gave a short nod, and there was the stiffness I’d been expecting. Turning back to the old register, she punched a few buttons and the drawer slid open with a ding.

“So, what are you writing your article about?” she asked tersely. “You here about Brook?”

“Sorry, Brook?”

“Or maybe Dad? Not every day the alpha of an established pack gets murdered.”

She narrowed her hazel eyes at me and crossed her arms. There I was, innocent as a babe, munching on a donut, and she was talking about murder.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” I admitted, taking another bite and licking cinnamon sugar from my fingertips.

“Maybe you’re here to throw your weight behind Skip, huh? Try to give him an edge.”

“How about I’m here for none of those things?” I edged back as she stalked her way around the counter and into my space, sniffing conspicuously like my very scent would give up my duplicitousness.

It was times like this I was glad I was the sole omega—except Mom—in a family full of alphas. If things weren’t going Chase’s way, the weight of his anger and dissatisfaction was practically enough to bowl anyone over. I’d had a chance to get used to alpha posturing. And Juniper Grove could clearly give him a run for biggest, baddest alpha wolf.

I didn’t shrink down, didn’t cower, but I did give her an uneasy smile.

“I feel like we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” I held out my hand in the cramped space between us. People were beginning to look, but Rowan, set up at that table out on the porch, kept them moving along. “I’m Colt Doherty,Washington Post. I’m actually here to find out more about your omegas. You must know you’ve got one of the best-balanced packs in the country, right?”

She heaved a sigh that held more inside it than I could guess. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t make an unsubstantiated jump here.

“Sure. Yeah.” She turned away, straightening a stack of returned baskets by the check-out counter. They were on a cart, presumably so they’d be easier to move between the inside counter and Rowan handing them out to tourists out front.

“Well, lots of people are curious about that.”

“I’ll bet.”

“And I’ve actually been trying to get an interview in with your alpha for months. Never got a response, though, so when Skip invited me to come visit, I jumped at the chance. I had no idea he was taking advantage of your father’s death.”

Her shoulders stiffened, but in my experience, people—especially alphas—appreciated when you were forthright with them.

I tilted my head and tried to catch her eye again. “So, it seems like maybe I’ve stepped in it, because I don’t know where safe ground is, but I can assure you, Ms. Grove, that I barely know Skip Chadwick, and I have less than zero interest in getting myself involved in your pack’s politics—” God, as if I didn’t have enough politicking in my life. “But if there’s something going on here that I could write about, that might help omegas like me who pretty much live their whole lives at risk of an illness nobody understands or can fix, I’d like to do that.”

Juniper heaved a sigh, but when she turned back toward me, her shoulders had softened. She bit her lip for a second, and finally blurted out, “You should talk to my brother Linden. He’s the town doctor. If anybody knows anything about the Condition around here, it’ll be him. He’s been working with Skye Johnson practically his whole life, and he’s always been sickly, you know? But it seems like they’ve got it under control somehow.”

“Okay, yeah. That’s great.” Already, I was pulling out my notebook, writing down the name she’d mentioned. “Anyone else I should talk to?”

Considering, she tipped her head to the side. “Maybe the Morgans, but they’re going through something right now, so it might be best to leave them alone. Strong omega family though—all three of the kids are omegas, and healthy as horses far as I can tell.”

“Morgan like Shiloh Morgan? The woman who works at The Cider House?”

“The same,” she agreed. “Then there’s Claudia. Claudia Wilson. She speaks for all the omegas in the pack. Well liked, trusted, knows what’s going on.”

“Thank you so much. This is great, Ms. Grove. Honestly.” First big break I’d gotten here, and even if it was only a handful of names, it was a place to start.

I looked at her, and she was giving me a worried scowl. “All right,” she said, “but this is our home, you hear? Don’t make a spectacle of it.”

Typical alpha, protective of the people they cared about. Normally, that defensive impulse seemed domineering to me. This once, though, it was charming.

“Totally. I promise. Anybody who’s not comfortable talking to me, I won’t bother. Or I can use pseudonyms. For individuals, or the pack.”

She nodded, glancing back toward the counter, where a man was standing, his small daughter twisting her fist in his slacks near the knee, pointing at the warm donuts.

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