Page 16 of Pack Kasen: Part 2

Then he slowly nods and I guess I must have passed some test. “Do you know if anyone would want him dead?”

Everything I know about Cristofer might not amount to much. He helped me find some books I needed for class in my sophomore year. And we chatted for a bit until his herbal remedies chased me away.

I shake my head.

He gives me a longer look as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “So you don’t know anyone who would want to harm those close to you?”

“No.”

“And it has no connection to you disappearing for nearly a week before graduation?”

Smart. It’s clear why this guy is a detective.

I smile at him, but inside, I’m tense. “You’ve been keeping a close eye on me, I see.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile. “Just doing my job. That’s all.”

“Michael?” a uniformed cop calls out from behind him.

He twists around, lifting his hand. “I’ll be right there.” He turns back to me and fishes a white card from his pocket, which he hands to me. “My number, Miss Meadow, in case you notice anything suspicious.”

“Thanks.” I don’t want to take the card, but if I don’t, he might wonder why.

He starts walking away and then stops and twists back, looking me in the eye.

“It sounds like you have a stalker. I would be very careful about going out at night in case whoever it is decides to stop targeting your lovers and targets you, Miss Meadow.”

A shiver goes down my spine.

Not fear.

Excitement.

My wolf has been craving a hunt for months, if not years. But not one that involves chasing the odd squirrel or bunny. An actual hunt, like when I tracked the two robbers who killed my old foster dad, Robert. I wouldn’t mind the same thing.

Killing isn’t the right thing to do. I know that. But sometimes a person needs to die so others can live.

I climb into my car and pull out of the campus parking lot, tossing the cop’s card in the trash on my way to my new apartment.

Cops are good for dispensing human justice. Someone is out there targeting people I care about. Jail is way too good for them.

6

AREN

Iscowl at my uninvited, unwanted guest. “When are you going away?”

Silence is a tangible thing in the dining room as my pack’s eyes bounce between me and Tagge, the Wolf Lord of Starling’s Peak.

He’s practically spilling out of one of the dining room chairs. Long dark brown hair, golden skin, greenish-blue eyes, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips that says I don’t intimidate him in the least.

He’s bigger, over six feet five, and slightly older. Thirty-three to my twenty-nine. But I’m the better fighter. Always have been. Always will be.

His sister sits at the same table. Shira has the same green eyes and longer, slightly lighter brown hair. The two dark-haired enforcers he brought continue to dig into their breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, and steak.

If a fight started between me and Tagge, Tagge would shove his enforcers out of his way so he could do the fighting. His enforcers are likely only here to keep an eye on the sister he’s determined to make my mate.

“My capable beta is on hand to keep an eye on things,” Tagge says cheerfully. “Heath will call if a situation requires my light touch.”

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