Page 7 of Wolf's Fate

The only thing I had of value was my laptop, and it was with me, as it was the one I used for work. The only other thing of value that I owned that had a monetary worth was the paintings they’d destroyed.

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Call the police. Then wait for us. We’re on our way back.”

“Okay.”

I don’t remember much of my phone call with the police. Whispering Pines had a small police department. I wouldn’teven have been able to say which officer I spoke to, but I didn’t think they asked me anything too strenuous.

They told me not to touch anything, and despite knowing better because I lived in this town, I felt a pang of disappointment when no CSI arrived at the crime scene.

Royce and Ned arrived just before the cops were leaving, and I sighed with relief when I saw them. They didn’t stop, merely circled my block. When the police were gone, I opened the back door to my two visitors.

Royce walked past me, Ned close on his heels, and I dutifully followed them to the studio.

“I’d taken everything to the store,” I informed them. “There was nothing of danger here.”

Royce looked relieved, but Ned was still watching me. “Allyour drawings of Caleb were at the store?”

It’s amazing how quickly you could go off someone. “No.” There was no point in lying.

Ned nodded, brushing past me on his way to my bedroom. He saw the knife on the floor, but despite the look that told me he knewexactlywhat I had done, he didn’t comment.

He took one look at the bedroom and turned to ask me a question that I hadn’t even thought of.

“Have you checked the store?”

THREE

Willow

We rodein silence to the store. Royce kept checking on me in the rearview on the short drive, but I didn’t meet his look. I didn’t know what to do. This was my life. Whoever had done this was messing with all I had.

I was no one.No one.

At the store, I saw the door was intact, but still, I held my breath as I pushed the door tentatively open. Ned gave a huff of impatience, picking me up and moving me out of the way, ignoring my squawk of complaint. He and Royce walked in ahead of me, and my indignant protest faded on my lips as my eyes darted around my store.

Papers were scattered, and the easels with Lorna’s and Peter’s works in progress were knocked over and looked like someone, or someones, had walked over them. The small sales counter I had, with one drawer, was knocked over completely, and one of the doors to the inner shelves was hanging off broken.

I was aware Royce was talking to Ned, but I couldn’thear them. My attention was on the artwork that was on display to sell.

Each piece had been ravaged, four deep tears ran from left to right on each piece. I had a wild flashback to the film franchise with Freddy Krueger, and I couldn’t shake the image from my head as I imagined the shifter who had been here, ripping their claws into the art as they walked in a slow and steady prowl from one end of my display wall to the other.

Deliberately.

Because that was what this was—adeliberatewarning to me. There was no art here that showed their world; Royce and Ned had already removed it.

Had they known that? Had they known that it was gone?

I didn’t know what to do. Ned was in my storage closet, which was as empty as they’d left it this morning. Royce was on the phone, his voice too low for me to hear. My hands were shaking as I tried to tidy up, reaching for one of the easels and lifting it to set it right, but the legs were broken, and it had no stability.

I let it fall again, jumping at the sound of the impact as it fell back to the floor. Looking around my store, I felt disconnected. Here was a mess, and my house was worse. What had they been looking for? What had they hoped to achieve by leaving this obvious mark that they’d been here?

Was it simply to instill fear? If it was, it was working.

Royce was speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His voice was distorted. I felt like I was underwater, and I couldn’t breathe. My movements felt sluggish. My mind was swirling as I thought of too many scenarios of “what-ifs.”

I was against the wall, but my knees were weak, and I sliddown to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. My left hand clutched my phone, and I just wanted to call Lily. I wanted someone I trusted to sit beside me and tell me it was going to be okay.