Page 35 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

My body jerked at the sound of her relief, which worried me more than just knowing she had troubles in her life. She had to have faced true danger for her to accept that kind of vow.

“Sarah,” I pleaded. “Tell me what you’re running from.”

She sniffed and smiled through her pain. “I can’t tell you.”

I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Then—acting on instinct—I cupped her face in my hands, bent my knees so we were at eye level, and said something completely reckless. “I could make you.”

Her body stiffened, but her eyes said she knew I was right. “Please don’t.”

I scented her fight or flight conundrum in the air again. I didn’t want her to run, so I pulled her against my body and did what I’d wanted to do before. I slid my fingers through her silky hair.

“Hey,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. “I was joking.”Mostly joking. “You can have your secret.”For now.“So long as you promise me no more wandering into the woods without proper clothing. My father’s death...”

I hesitated for a second, wondering if I should repeat the same lie we’d told everyone else—that he’d shot himself when his gun accidentally discharged—or if I should reveal a little of my secret.

It was a risk, but I decided to share—both to help build trust between us and because I hoped it would keep her from making the same mistake she’d made today. “He was shot.”

“Shot?” Her body went rigid in my arms, then she pushed herself out of them and looked up at my face. “I thought his gun went off accidentally.”

“Someone shot him in these woods, and it wasn’t hunting season then either.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Her brow furrowed. “You mean...someone mistook him for an animal?”

I glanced toward the barn’s open doorway while the animal inside of me sniffed at the air, always hoping to detect some clue, some answer to that very question. “We don’t know what happened, or why. Not exactly.”

“You’re not suggesting he was intentionally targeted?”

“I would hope not.”

“But you’re not convinced?”

I turned to face her but held my tongue. Revealing my family’s true nature would be one secret too many.

She nodded, clearly processing both my answers and my silence. “Are there any clues to who did it?”

I shrugged. “I have a bullet and a torn piece of fabric from some kind of patch I found near the scene. There’s still a little bit of the logo showing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have them? Shouldn’t any evidence be in the custody of law enforcement?”

“Custody of law enforcement?” I tilted my head, wondering if I’d just stumbled into a piece of the Sarah puzzle. “You talk like a cop. Are you?”

She shook her head. “No. I...just know people who are.”

I considered that for a second. She sounded like she was telling me the truth. “I found them weeks after he died. They might not even be related.”

“But you still kept them,” she said.

Hell, yes, I kept them. Vengeance belonged to our family—not some lame-ass human idea of justice: five years, with a third off for good behavior.

“I hang onto them in case something else turns up later. I need to know what happened to my dad. Besides keeping the business and my family going, that’s all I really care about.”

“Your dad was very sweet to me in my interview.”

I expelled a sharp breath through my nose. Sweet wasn’t exactly the word I would have used to describe him, but I liked that Sarah thought so. I liked that he had been kind to her.

“All right,” she said. “Fair exchange. You protect me, and I’ll help.”

I furrowed my brow. “Help with what?”

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