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I take photos of the site—wide shots of the exterior, close-ups of the door frame, the moss patterns, the disturbed soil near the back. Anything that might tell a story I can’t yet see. I drop a GPS pin and scribble field notes into my phone like I’m back on assignment in hostile territory. Every detail might matter later. The angle of decay. The weather pattern. The absence of wildlife. I scan the perimeter one last time. This isn’t just a cabin anymore—it’s a question with no answer.

A crime scene without a body, and I don’t know if I’m the investigator… or next on the list. A warning nailed into the bones of the mountain.

When I climb back into my truck, my radio crackles.

“Sheriff? You there?”

“Go,” I answer, flipping the switch.

“It’s Wade Morris,” my deputy says. “We’ve got a situation at the compound.”

My stomach knots.

“What kind of situation?”

A beat of hesitation. “The elders from your pack summoned Kate McKinley, and they weren't about to take no for an answer.”

No. Hell no.

“Said it was urgent. They told me not to contact you.”

The steering wheel creaks under my grip.“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER 12

KATE

The sun’s barely cleared the ridge when Elder Shaw walks into my store like he owns the damn place—shoulders back, coat sharp, and voice smoother than a snake oil salesman. I was restocking the front window with a new shipment of inventory when he cleared his throat behind me.

"Miss McKinley," he says, tone calm but coated in authority. "The elders would like a word."

I straighten slowly, keeping my hands steady even as my pulse kicks up. "And if I say no?"

He gives me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. "That wouldn't be wise."

My wolf stirs beneath my skin, bristling at the command. I force a smile. "Sounds more like a summons than a request."

"It is what it needs to be," he says simply. “We expect you within the hour.”

It’s a command dressed in civility, but it hits like a shot fired across a bow. My spine straightens a little more. I give nothing away, but inside, I file the tone for what it is—pressure. Thinly veiled and deliberately timed.

And just like that, I know—this will not be a conversation. It's going to be an interrogation, if not an inquisition. It sure as hell isn't an invitation for tea and cookies.

I don’t budge. I will not be intimidated in my own store. “I’ve got morning orders to unpack, invoices to reconcile, and I need to call someone to cover the shop. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Shaw’s mouth tightens. “Miss McKinley, this is not a matter for delay.”

I lift an eyebrow. “And I’m not leaving my store unlocked and unstaffed. If the Rawlings' pack elders want to talk with no notice, you’ll get me as soon as I can get there. If that's a problem for you, we can wait and discuss it with Hudson..”

He blanches. Ah, so Hudson doesn't know about this. Good to know. Shaw doesn’t like my response and the fact that I'm not cowed by him. I see it in the clench of his jaw and the flick of his eyes to the store around us like it's beneath him. But he gives a stiff nod.

“We'll expect you within twenty minutes.”

“You'll get me when you get me. I'm sure even you can understand and appreciate someone who looks after her business. So it'll be more like thirty to forty-five, but easily within the hour... if you leave now,” I say sweetly.

And just like that, I bought myself the time to show up on my terms—even if it means the rest of the day won't be mine to control.

The council chamber of the Rawlings compound smells like polished wood, dominance, and judgment. It's built like a courtroom and decorated like a hunting lodge—dark walls,heavy chairs, the kind of lighting that casts long shadows across faces you’re supposed to respect. Or fear.