“Who?” The power I put into the word flew through the room, slamming into them like a physical force, shooting them across the mirror-slick white floors until they hit the wall.
I wasn’t sure where that power came from, and it didn’t matter. Not right now.
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“It was a fey woman and a witch.” Shannon spit out the words. “They were working together. The witch was from a New York coven, but the bitch is dead now. The fey girl killed her in front of us. They told us that if we said anything about it, we were dead, too.
“I don’t know why they didn’t kill us. It seems it would’ve been tidier, but I don’t think they realized that no Alpha would know if we died. No Alpha would feel it through the pack ties and come asking questions because we weren’t tethered to any pack—except our blood relations. I think they thought as long as they let us live, no one would know how they got through to your mate bond. But they’d kill us for talking to you. So, if I tell you any more, you’d best help us. We need protection. We need—”
“We don’t need anything from them if this is how—” Imogene started talking
, but Shannon cut her off with a look.
“Yes, we do,” Shannon said.
At least one of them was sane. Not that we’d help them, but—
“We can certainly discuss options, depending on what you tell us,” Michael said.
I stared at my adoptive father like he’d lost his mind. Discuss options? When they’d knowingly participating in the abduction of my mate?
No. Just no. They could live with the consequences of their actions for all I cared. Once I had the information, these two were dead to me. I would walk out the door and never look back.
Michael looked at me then, and it was as if he could read my mind. He gave me a look that said they’d face the consequences of betraying our bonds, but it wasn’t up to us to decide their fate.
Michael was right. I was extremely biased here.
He gave me a small, barely there nod and turned back to Shannon. “Who? I need a name.” His voice was softer now that Shannon had caved.
“I don’t know who she was.” Fear made Shannon’s Irish accent thicker than I’d ever heard from her before. “I’ve lived next door to fey my whole life, and I could tell that she was using magic to hide who she was. I knew her name and what she looked like when she was here, but the second she left, my mind muddled. I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a line-up if my life were on the line. And I know it is right now. I know it. I tried asking who she was and I swear to Jesus I warned Imogene—”
“You bitch!” Imogene leaped at Shannon, but Michael caught her around the waist and threw her against the mirrored wall.
Glass shattered, and a faint coppery scent of blood started to seep into the room. My wolf wanted her to hurt, to pay, to bleed for what she’d done to Tessa.
We still needed answers, which meant I couldn’t kill her yet.
Imogene would be fine. Glass wouldn’t really hurt a werewolf. But I might if Imogene didn’t cut the shit.
“You stay there.” Michael didn’t yell it. He didn’t need to. There was enough threat in what he didn’t say.
Imogene wouldn’t move again if she wanted to live.
“What did the fey girl tell you? Where did they take her?” I asked Shannon. “Please. We were friends once. My mate—my wife—is gone. I need her back, or I won’t…I need her back. Anything you can tell me would help.”
Shannon wiped tears from her face as she looked up at me. Her face was pale, making her freckles stand out more. Her wolf was making her green eyes turn a glowing hazel, but she wasn’t going to fight. She stank of remorse and sorrow.
My wolf wouldn’t hurt her. She was…weak.
“I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I know it was wrong, but I was left without a pack. I was alone. I…Please. A mercy on me.”
“Help me, and then we’ll talk.” I wouldn’t let myself be part of any tribunal against her, but if she helped—if she really, truly helped me now—I might be willing to speak on her behalf.
Shannon nodded. “They said they were going to hide her somewhere. She wasn’t going to be hurt or killed or anythin’. They promised that much at least.”
I let out a breath. “That might just save your life. Keep going.”
“God. I am sorry for what I’ve done. I called Meredith. I tried to tell her. I did. I feel a kind of miserable guilt, and I—”