Page 24 of Strawberry Moon

Andy stuck his chin up. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody here’s a murderer.”

“Maybe not directly,” I conceded. “But if you’ve got a vested financial interest in murder, you ain’t far off.”

Andy reared back. “This is the guy? The one you’re trying to appease?” He waved a hand at me, but his question, his eyes, were pointed at Archer.

Archer who was standing there going bright red.

I hated that—hatedseeing Archer flush under this guy’s gaze. This random human, thisAndy, talking like he had any business in werewolf affairs.

“Oh, Archer doesn’t owe me a damn thing,” I snapped, spinning and stalking off toward the barn.

“Ford,” Linden snapped.

“Just—just give me a second.” That was Archer, and I heard his quick, light steps as he jogged after me toward the barn.

Bad idea.

I didn’t slow down, didn’t stop until I was in the cool shadowed interior. Then, I rounded on him.

“What the fuck do you want?” I demanded, my teeth sharp in my mouth, teasing the insides of my lips with their edges.

Archer flinched.

“I wanted to—I don’t know. I wanted to tell you Andy’s a good guy. He wants to fix this as much as I do. And, I guess, see if you’re... I don’t know. Okay?”

“I’m fucking great.” I snarled. “Everything’s goddamn peaches and cream out here. My alpha running around with a bunch of billionaire assholes, bunch of murderers.”

“I’ve never—Iwouldn’t everhurt anyone,” Archer insisted, his eyes gleaming my way, flashing with anger.

“Sure, no, you just profited off the death of hundreds of thousands of werewolves, really leaned into it. And for what? Because your grandpa couldn’t cage an omega mate?” I’d seen the websites, the ones where humans fixated on pack dynamics, turned heat into something dangerous and thrilling, not a time when an alpha ought to take care of their omega mate, but a time where the boundaries of consent got fuzzier.

Jed Sterling had endangered omega wolves in every way. Not for a person he loved but the idea of owning a wolf.

Only—it hit me when I took a deep breath, my wolf looking for all signs of trouble—only I was standing right there in front of an omega wolf. And Jed Sterling had hurt him too. Had shot him.

And now I was going around hurting him, blaming him for something he couldn’t have had a hand in.

Or, well, he could have. He was a young guy—younger than me—but if he wanted all werewolves dead, why risk his life trying to save Skye Johnson? Why go through all the trouble of trying to right the Sterling Corporation’s wrongs now?

There was a miserable omega right there in front of me, and I’d caused that. Maybe I wasn’t as bad as Jedidiah Sterling, but it wasn’t like I was a hero for punishing Archer. Particularly not when I had a sneaking suspicion I was more upset by the company he kept than by any real crimes he might’ve committed.

My wolf whined, growling me down until all I could feel was the hard pounding of my heart in my chest, the spread of guilt that chilled my limbs and took all the heat out of my anger.

Archer slumped his shoulders, hanging his head down between them. He looked little all of the sudden, younger than I thought he really was. It wasn’t like he was a kid, it just struck me that, with his grandfather’s care, with all that money, he’d probably been treated a certain kind of way most of his life—protected and coddled. Not yelled at and belittled.

I sighed, trying to get a grip of the right thing to say—an apology would be a start.

But then he raked a hand through his hair. His warm-peach scent hit me, and he raised his eyes and stared my way with an intensity that brought me up short. “Listen, I get you’re hurt. I really do. This is awful, but I don’t know what to do other than try and fix it.” He huffed, and for a second, I saw him chewing hard on his bottom lip. “I’ve tried playing by your rules and leaving the rest of the pack alphas out of it, but if you’re going to be an asshole, then I have to work with them.”

I sighed, stuffing both my closed fists in the pockets of my jeans. It wasn’t that I wanted to hit him, just, when he looked small like that, my impulse was to reach out and try to help. Tell him that the right thing for him to do was deal with me, because I didn’t like the idea of Skip Chadwick trying to charm him. And I couldn’t.

I’d snapped at him, blamed him for everything, and he had every right in the world to hate me for that. I definitely wasn’t the person who should be offering him comfort when I was the one who’d upset him in the first place.

But he was turning, walking away, and I just couldn’t stand that.

Suddenly, I was there, right behind him, my hand on his arm, his shoulders flinching up that much higher when I touched him. He must’ve thought I was going to attack, but—

“Don’t. Don’t go.”

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