Not that long ago, one of our staff members would always be at the door to greet us and collect our keys for us, but with three of the five children having moved out, we downsized a lot of the auxiliary support our family once had. Even the Parracidas, the head staff family who supported all three of our region’s top packs, had largely stopped working for us. Their daughter, Alexandria, still made her elaborate cakes and confections for our special events and holidays, and their son occasionally provided rotating guard when needed, but that was about it.
Much to my surprise, I rather liked the reduced staff. It made it easier to linger in the quiet and not feel like someone was watching me whenever I needed to destress. Whenever I needed to not be the oh-so-perfect and on-the-ball middle son anymore.
And it was most certainly quiet now, which wasn’t entirely unusual. Luther and my father were likely in the study, no doubt going through proposal after proposal of potential mates for my eldest brother.
After grabbing a bottle of water from our fridge, I headed upstairs to my father’s preferred place of business, but when I was about halfway up, I realized I couldn’t hearanything.
I paused, listening intently. The utter silence was completely alien to me. Even if my brother and father were reading silently, I should have been able to hear their heartbeats, the shuffle of paper. I should have been able to scent them—their personal smell or any pheromones or emotional signaling. I should also have been picking up their personal security.
Something was amiss.
Hair raising on the back of my neck, I called my wolf close enough to the surface that my claws hardened and extended, the muscles of my arm thickening and layering upon each other. If someone was going to try to get the drop on me, they would have a most unpleasant surprise. I may have not been the next in line for our family, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a force to be reckoned with.
When I reached my father’s study, I paused on the other side of the door to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating the oppressive quiet. The utter absence of sound. But it was as if there was nothing on the other side of the door. No creaking floor, no old manor expanding and contracting or moving with the wind. Just...
Nothing.
I took a step back and kicked the door. I kicked the door hard. If it turned out that I was merely paranoid, I would have no problem apologizing and living with the embarrassment of making a scene. But every instinct in my body was screaming at me that there was something unnatural about the situation.
“Fath—”
I never got the full word out, because what greeted me shook me down to my core, stealing away any words I might have had. Caspian VanMarche, my father, was sitting in his chair, a silver blade sticking out of his chest.
My father.
I stood there a moment, trapped within my own shock. Only my eyes moved as I took in the grizzly scene. Technically, my father and brother’s security detail were also in the room, bits and pieces of them flung everywhere in a macabre version of a Rorschach test made with blood and viscera instead.
Shaking myself out of my shock, I ran to the closest—God, what did I call it?—pileof bloody matter. I could see bits ofclothes shredded this way and that. An occasional finger, chunk of flesh, a foot, a discarded shoe (did it go with that foot?). It was as if I was outside my own body, unable to connect what was in front of me with reality.
But then, glinting in the mire, was the edge of a ring I recognized instantly. Although my brain wasscreamingat me to stop, to not touch anything, I pulled it out.
I had no expectations for what would happen—who could know in such a situation?—but the last thing I could have ever anticipated was for a hand to come with it, then a heavily muscled arm.
“L-l-luther?” I sputtered, dropping the shredded limb and falling onto my ass as I scuttled backward.
My heart thundered,and I was sure I was going to throw up, but instead I just sat there while my mind tried to rationalize the horror scene I’d walked in on.
Someone had just killed our alpha and his heir.
And they had done it in our home.
Chapter 2
Cheribelle
First Time Jitters
“So,you see, your auntie dropped off your dog at the shelter, and here’s the paperwork confirming the time, place, as well as her recommendation for euthanasia. Do you know what euthanasia is?”
“No... Not really,” the young boy said. And that was totally fair, since he looked to be nine years old at the most, but was probably only seven or eight.
“That’s okay. Your mother will know what it means, so make sure you tell her. And I really do suggest you tell her as soon as you can, so she knows what her sister did and can react in whatever way she feels is appropriate.Capiche?”
“Y-yeah! I’m gonna tell her right now! Then maybe we can go get him!”
“Splendid idea,” I said, patting the boy on the back. “I made sure to inform the shelter that I had discovered possible shenanigans around the surrender of your dog, so they have him on hold for the next twenty-four hours. I can assure you, he’s safe and comfortable.”
“Thanks, oracle lady! You’re the best.”