Page 70 of Wicked Hour (Heirs of Chicagoland 2)

“The clan is what it is. It runs the way it’s always run. What I think about it doesn’t matter.”

“Who do you think killed Loren?” I asked.

He looked out the window. I’d have put his age at nineteen or twenty, and that made him seem even younger. A child angry at the world’s unfairness. “The fuck do I know?”

“You’d know better than me,” I said. “You didn’t like him.”

His expression didn’t change, but he also didn’t disagree.

“In the lodge, you said he brought trouble to the clan,” I said. “What did you mean by that?”

“He was a dick, and he’s dead. So why does it matter?”

“Because someone cared enough to murder him,” I pointed out. “Did you know he was the last person to talk to Paisley before she died? And she was angry about something when that happened?”

Angry magic crackled in the air. He hadn’t liked the suggestion that Loren and Paisley had been together—or he hadn’t known about it. “Said who?”

“Said the people I’ve asked. You know anything about that?”

He stood up so quickly I nearly flinched with surprise; then he moved toward me. “You’re a fucking liar. I want you out of my house.”

I was getting real tired of being told what to do by shifters. And the monster was interested in the sharp whip strike of his anger. “Are you afraid of someone asking questions?” I asked quietly, keeping my voice low and refusing to move, to step back.

That challenge put a spark in his eyes. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Loren?”

“Anything,”he said, voice low and threatening. “Even nosy vampires.”

The door opened. Georgia walked in, grocery bag in hand; behind her, Connor carried two more. They put the bags on thecounter, went very still as they read the scene. And I looked back at them, trying to figure out why they’d just walked into Traeger’s cabin.

“Hey,” Connor said carefully, taking in our positions, the fire in Traeger’s eyes, as he evaluated the situation. Assessed. “What’s up?”

“Traeger and I were just having a conversation,” I said, and looked up at him, refusing to step backward.

I could feel Georgia’s cautious but heavy stare, like that alone might be enough to hold Traeger back, to keep him from doing something stupid in front of the prince. Or to him.

“Trae, can you help me put these groceries away?”

“In a minute,” he said. “I need air. There’s a smell in here.” Without waiting for Georgia’s response, he stalked outside, slammed the door behind him.

Georgia looked back at me, dark brows lifted. “What pissed him off?”

“Generally, the clan. Specifically, me.” I shifted my gaze to Connor. “He and Paisley were dating. Says he didn’t know Loren was the last person to see her alive or that they were arguing. I tend to believe him.”

“Loren was an elder,” Georgia said, pulling boxes and jars from the bags, setting them on the counter. “He talked to all the clan members.”

“Not all the elders are dead,” Connor pointed out.

She put a box into one of the cabinets, closed the door again. I guessed she wasn’t optimistic about Traeger coming back to finish the job. “Trae has nothing to do with any of that.”

“You’re sure?” Connor asked.

“Do you mean, would I know if he’d killed an elder of this clan?” Her voice was dry as toast. “Yeah, I feel pretty confident I would. Look, he’s hot-tempered,” she said, putting both hands on the island countertop and leaning forward, eager to make us believe her. “He’s young. It’s typical behavior. He’s learning whatbeing alpha means, and it takes some longer than others. Especially given his history.”

Given the meaningful look she aimed at Connor, I assumed she’d given him some of that history—and he’d tell me what I needed to know.

“Georgia, you’re family,” Connor began, “but something is going on here, and everyone seems to be ignoring the obvious. One of your elders is dead, and Paisley before him. Maybe Traeger is involved, and maybe he isn’t. But the denial isn’t helping anyone.”

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