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Neither Petra nor Samuel look pleased, but they also don’t interrupt him.

“Tell me where he is,” Celeste demands.

“I don’t know.” It’s the truth, and Sascha is so overcome by the sickening realization that he has to press his palm to his stomach. The pull he noticed earlier is still there, now oriented differently. Does that mean Avery left the lake? He must’ve, if he was confronted by Beryl. Sascha’s eyes slide to them, wondering if they’ll say anything revealing, but they don’t. They stand motionless, watching silently.

When Celeste growls, Samuel says, “My son says he doesn’t know where the creature is.”

“And you believe him?” Celeste snaps before Sascha can argue—again—about referring to Avery as something subhuman.

“Are you calling my son a liar?”

With an incredulous snort, Celeste responds, “His actions up to now haven’t exactly inspired confidence, have they?”

Sascha’s father pauses, then turns to him. “Alexander, do you know where the werecreature is?”

“Avery,” Sascha corrects. When Samuel merely levels himwith a patient stare, Sascha gives in and says, “No,” begrudgingly.

“There’s your answer,” confirms Samuel.

Sascha would be pleased by his father’s trust, were it about any other topic. He’s glad he doesn’t have to lie, but the unknown keeps his stomach roiling. “I’ve been at the clinic recovering for several days.” He carefully doesn’t say what he was recoveringfrom. “I don’t know where Avery is, and I haven’t spoken with him.”

Celeste inspects him for several seconds, but upon finding nothing she can argue with, turns to one of the werecreatures behind her—the solid woman with nut brown skin, who choked Sascha out when they were attacked at Dennings farm. She gives Celeste a nod, black hair escaped from a messy bun bobbing in front of her eyes. Celeste frowns at Sascha, then looks at Samuel. “Sorry for my doubtfulness,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’d like your help searching for the werecreature alpha, Samuel.”

“Why can’t your wolves just track him?” Sascha blurts before thinking the better of it. He doesn’t believe Celeste can’t find Avery with her own resources, and confronting that head-on is the only way he can figure to get an answer.

It doesn’t seem a question Celeste wants asked, but Samuel prompts, “Yes, Celeste, I am also curious.”

Celeste pauses before saying, “I suspect he has some form of cloaking magic, like Zuhr.” She gestures to the same woman, clearly not realizing she just exposed her own magic-wielder. Celeste isn’t facing Zuhr, so she doesn’t see her face twitch.

Meanwhile, Beryl drops their gaze to the floor.

Sascha isn’t an expert at body language, but he can tell even Celeste’s own werecreatures don’t appreciate her flat-out lies—hilariously, boldly put out despite accusing Sascha of being the liar. It’s all Sascha can do not to spit the truth back at her, but Petra catches his eye, and he holds back.Avery doesn’t have a scrap of magic he can use to hide from expert trackers, or even amateur ones. He barely knows how to properly wield alpha magic.

Even Samuel’s disbelief is visible; everyone in the room knows Celeste’s agenda to pressure Avery into submitting to her control. There’s no point in escalating with her motivation clear.

After a prolonged silence that grows increasingly tense, Samuel says, “Well, Celeste. I wish you luck in finding the werecreature and seeking whatever accountability you need for your enforcer’s… injuries.” He waves dismissively in Beryl’s direction. “My son needs to focus on healing, so I’d appreciate if your pack would vacate the clinic now.”

It’d be prudent for Sascha to feign compliance before planning his next move. Regardless, he opens his mouth, probably to say something he’ll regret, only for Petra to cut him off by stepping on his foot. Sascha has the good sense to smother his yelp.

“That’s a good idea, alpha, thank you,” Petra says, already ferrying Sascha toward the door to her apartment.

If his father responds, Sascha doesn’t hear it. He lets Petra push him upstairs, and by the time they crest the landing, he’s gone entirely numb.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Sascha

Neither Petra nor Sascha speak while Petra fills a backpack with supplies. A change of clothes, first aid kit, two water bottles, and a handful of energy bars. She zips it closed, her expression grim, then hands the backpack to Sascha. He’s already dressed and wearing shoes, so he slings the backpack over his shoulders and pulls Petra in for a hug. Although she allows his physical affection, she isn’t especially keen on reciprocating, but this time her strong arms wrap around Sascha’s back and squeeze.

“What’s your plan?” she asks when they separate.

Sascha shrugs. “I don’t know. I have to find him first.”

“I’d lend you my car, but it had an accident.”

A slight smile tugs Sascha’s mouth. “I’m really sorry about that, but it means a lot that you’d offer to let me use it again if I hadn’t, you know, totaled it.”