Page 28 of The Sacred Wolf

“Leto help us,” I muttered, mind racing with all the possibilities of what the Children could be up to that would bother Max so much. Or anyone. The list seemed virtually endless. “What are they doing now? Not lighting incense again, I hope.” I yanked my hair into a topknot full of yesterday’s tangles and slipped on some shoes.

She shook her head, a grin lighting up her face before she coughed into her hand. “I’m not sure I can describe it. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

I sighed and followed her to the elevator up to the floor where the Alpha Family lived—what was left of it without Yara. When the doors opened into the foyer, I stepped out and stopped, transfixed by the most ridiculous tableau I’d ever encountered.

The Children were all in wolf form, but appeared to be engaged in some sort of… yoga? There were wolf butts in the air and paws and snouts pointed, frozen, in every direction, directly beneath the oil painting of Chann and Marrak that hung on the wall opposite the elevator bay.

Halo have mercy.

I could—

Nope. I got this.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to be calm. I would politely ask the weirdos to please take their yoga elsewhere, like anywhere else, and refrain from engaging in wolf-yoga n view of Max or anyone else ever again.

“Uh, guys?” I began, but before I got another word out, Mateo came around the corner and froze. Our eyes met, and he grimaced. I could smell the embarrassment flowing off him like a cologne of shame, and I shrugged as if to say, “How about you take the lead here, since you used to be one of these freaks?”

Thankfully, he obliged.

“Ayla,” he said, with a cough, “I know Elyse would appreciate it if you’d tone it down. As would your host—my Alpha.”

The Children shifted, their permanent shit-eating grins still directed my way, but thankfully they took the hint and stood up like normal people.

“Excellent,” Mateo remarked, with what I assumed was a bite of sarcasm. “Keeping yourselves more discreet is not just our preference. It’s a matter of safety. I’m sure you know that there has been unrest in the city, and that right now we are facing significant anti-shifter sentiment?”

“All the more reason for us to focus on fulfilling the prophecy, wouldn’t you agree?” Jasper asked, his furrowed brow speaking of genuine confusion.

“I cannot see how what you were doing contributes anything of real value to that cause,” Mateo replied in a clipped tone.

“We must channel the energy of the Moon God to support—” Monty began.

“We understand,” Ayla cut him off quickly. “But I know you do too, Mateo.”

The Beta quirked an eyebrow at her insolence, huffed a sharp sigh, and then whirled on his heel and stalked back around the corner.

Oh no you don’t. It’s time you gave me some answers, Mister.

Chapter Fourteen

After rushing to my room to grab the photo Mateo had given me, I made my way back upstairs to the office space Mateo shared with Max, hoping I’d find one and not the other. For once, luck was on my side. Mateo was seated at the massive mahogany table behind the double-screens he used to monitor news, shifter communications, and, according to Sebastian, quite a lot of the family’s trading portfolio. From what I’d gathered so far, he’d gotten his degree in finance from NYU and an MBA from someplace fancy—Booth, or something?

Anyway, he was way too smart to think that I was going to let this whole thing go without learning more, especially after he’d left me that picture with my mother in it. And him. Appearing, um, close. I just had to figure out how to keep my own secrets while getting him to reveal his own.

Though he could see me through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, he didn’t look up. And though I found that annoying, I knocked politely before entering.

“How can I help you, Elyse? Do you need more intervention with Ayla and her compatriots?” Mateo asked without breaking his gaze from his monitors, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“No. I told them how to get on the rooftop so they could sing their campfire songs.” I paused, settling into one of the charcoal velvet chairs in front of the desk and crossing my legs. “While I speak with you.”

Mateo’s fingers stopped, and he shifted in his seat, peering around the monitors.

I hoped my knitted brow was projecting exactly the determination I felt. He had to know that I meant business, not trading.

He raised a single dark eyebrow. “And what do we need to speak about?”

I whipped out the picture he’d left me and tossed it onto the desk so that it spun to a stop right in front of him. “This.”

“Ah.” Mateo sighed and pushed back his chair. “I assumed this would come up at some point.”

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