He sighed. “Such is the burden of being adored.”
Sure. That was what it was.
Strangely enough, that miniscule slice of levity helped me get through the seemingly endless slog of well-wishers. I appreciated their kind words, I really did, but it was hard not to get frustrated with them when all I wanted was for our trap to be sprung so justice could be served.
Unfortunately—or was it fortunately?—nothing happened during the guests’ arrival, and soon all the pews were filled with a couple hundred shifters and shifter-adjacent people. Suddenly, I began to doubt our entire plan. Surely no assassins would attack in such a large crowd! And if the peculiar, emotionless murderer still existed and wasn’t some specter someone had summoned magically… well, it didn’t seem like they’d just burst in either.
Perhaps I’d been so eager for some semblance of catharsis that I’d been making poor choice after poor choice. It wasn’t like the underbelly market we’d gone through was much help. In fact, we’d gotten ourselves into quite a bit of trouble there, and I was sure that there were ramifications still?—
“Condolences on what I am sure is a very trying time for your family.”
I whipped my head in the direction of a tall, willowy woman dressed entirely in white.
Absolutely not.
There was no way that the actualWhisperwas at the funeral!
Shit.
Actually, one swear word wasn’t enough.Shit, shit, shit, shit!
I watched, completely and utterly gobsmacked, as Jackson said something polite to her, then she did the same routine with Penelope. Neither of them seemed to have any inkling ofwho she was—why would they?—nor did they scent my distress. That was likely because I was already exuding plenty of unhappy pheromones, and there were literally hundreds of other shifters around as well.
Finally, she reached me, and I braced myself to give the signal. Surely this had to be the Whisper making a bold declaration thatshewas the one responsible for the hits?
Even if that didn’t entirely make sense to me.
“Hello there, friend,” she said, her voice smooth and calm. It was strange to see such a benevolent countenance on her face when the last time I’d seen her, she’d been shrieking as Cherry set her vines on fire. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes, no stranger place to be than my alpha and alpha-heir’s funeral,” I responded dryly. In my mind, however, I was rapidly deciding how exactly to play the situation. Because while I so badly wanted to send the signal and snap the jaws of our trap closed, it also didn’t feel…correct.
Maybe Cherry really was rubbing off on me.
“Truly bizarre. Especially since I did a little digging on my rude guests who left so suddenly. Do you know what I found? I found out that the alpha and the heir in those caskets are actually your blood kin. Is that not so, Christopher VanMarche, eldest surviving son of Caspian VanMarche?”
I blinked at her, wondering if she realized that the drama of her villainous reveal was quite lost on me. “I’m Paul.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m Paul. The third son. Chris is here.” I gestured to my brother beside me, who had just finished conversing with a guest.
“What about me?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just catching up with a former colleague. Good chance to take a sip of water if you want.”
“Excellent idea.”
He turned to do just that, and I looked back to the Whisper, who appeared quite deflated.
“I… I didn’t find any information about any middle son. Just the heir, the second born, then the party boy with the hit and one daughter.”
I would have laughed if it were any other situation. But it wouldn’t look great for me to do so at my pack’s funeral, so instead I just shrugged. “Plight of the middle child, I suppose.”
“Right. Well…” She cleared her throat and glanced at the line behind her. “We will speak later then, Paul. I really did come to pay my respects. I’d rather be an ally than an enemy.”
“I’m guessing my family name has something to do with that?”
“Of course. Powerful friends in high places and all that.”