Page 21 of Malcolm

He glanced over her shoulder to see what she was seeing. At first, there was nothing but land over 100 acres. There were three main buildings that faced the castle in the center of the land; when he’d last been there, there had been two, but the clan must have expanded once more. Several houses were built facing the three main buildings, and a large space rested between the houses and the farmland. There were three schools as well. All in all, it looked like a small city.

He couldn’t help laughing: “It’s not mine, remember?” He moved into the aisle so that she was forced to let go of him. “Come, we need to get our bags. Someone is supposed to meet us.”

Scabbling, she grabbed her thick coat up and pulled it on. “Coming,” she said as she chased after him.

Together, they got off the train; the stop on McLeran land was nothing like the stop in Nashville. The modern conveniences were nowhere to be found. The only thing there was a single sign that read “McLeran.” One would think they’d been dropped in the middle of nowhere. Malcolm frowned; nothing had changed since he’d last been here. Malcolm wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Wow, this place definitely feels like something out of a fantasy novel,” Eliza said as she watched the attendants settle their bags on the dirt road before alighting the train. Her eyes were focused on the clear blue sky and the wisp of white cloudsthat drifted over her head. She placed her hands on her hip, staring at the tall trees. “I just can never get over how there are these swaths of land that are invisible to the rest of the world.” She released a whistle, side-eyeing Malcolm. “How long have your people owned this land?”

“We settled here a little after the US won its independence,” Malcolm said, grabbing his bags and reluctantly allowing her to take hers. We weren’t a large clan then, but we have grown since as we integrated others into our pack before the Great Split.”

“The great split,” she asked, lifting her duffel and settling it on her shoulders. “That is what?”

He glanced at her before facing forward. “Werewolves, Lykans, and shifters, we’re similar but different in our own ways, but the council labeled us all under the “beast’ title, and for a brief time, we were treated as such. Hunted even.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Why am I not shocked,” Eliza said as she approached his side. “The council seems to enjoy fucking people over. Ready?”

He gave a short nod, and together, they made their way along the well-beaten path that was marred by a few tire tracks. As they walked, Malcolm couldn’t stop the feeling of nostalgia as he remembered running up this path as a child. There were better paths, but this one was the closest to the tracks and was more well known by everyone in the clan. The main entrance was connected to the City of Clarksville; the average human would just see swaths of farmland and a few barns, nothing of notice.

He took a deep breath, catching the hint of roasting corn in the air. It was a bitter pill to realize that even when he’d turned his back on his home, it still had a place in his heart. He glanced down at Eliza, trying to fill that hole with her presence.

The urge to claim her was riding him hard, but so far he was able to hold back. It wasn’t the right time to be focusing on claiming his mate. Especially since he’d been sent here toinvestigate the case Tiller had given him. Young werewolves between the ages of late teens and early twenties, which made sense, as their kind usually grew restless and spent more and more time in the human world around that age.

This would make them easy bait, and with the possibility of them being attacked and kidnapped by their own kind, it wasn’t hard to believe someone on the inside was doing the dirty work. He mentally sighed; Alek had indeed been right when he said there was something wrong. Still, the idea of taking the reins of the clan…He let that idea trail off; he wasn’t interested.

“Is that the person you were supposed to meet?” Eliza suddenly asked.

The slightly stunned quality of her voice forced him to look up at a bright red Ford truck rumbling down the road toward them. He lifted his arm, gently maneuvering Eliza over.

Eliza reached up and tapped the edge of her hat. Instead of holding a pale hand, Malcolm lifted a hand of brown skin with no writing. He glanced at her; she averted her eyes. “I can’t use it for a long time, but long enough that it won’t startle anyone who sees me.”

He observed her before giving a short nod just as the truck stopped before them. Turning his attention to the truck he watched as the driver side window rolled down. “Well, if it isn’t my nephew.”

“Uncle Robert?” he said in surprise. “I thought you?—”

“Left this piece of junk land.” Robert sighed, brushing the long mass of his curly black hair back. He squinted his green eyes in amusement, and added with breezy air. “Well, many things changed around here after you left.”

Malcolm wasn’t sure what to think about Robert’s words; he’d expected either a lukewarm or hostile meeting, not his uncle, who’d tossed away the title of Alpha all those years ago. “I—yes.”

Robert turned his attention to Eliza. “I see you brought a friend.” He offered her a friendly smile. “I wasn’t sure who the council would be sending after I sent my complaint, but it’s a good thing it’s you, Malcolm,” he said, returning his attention to him. “At least you understand our ways.”

He motioned to the back of his truck. “Go ahead and throw your things in the back, and then we’ll head back to the compound.”

Still lost in his thoughts, Malcolm gave a short nod and, together with Eliza, threw his items in the back of the truck before they both got in. Eliza in the backseat and Malcolm in the front. Soon they were driving back through the forest.

“How long?” Malcolm asked his uncle.

Robert made a turn, keeping his eyes on the road, and he said instead of answering. “I know your sister wrote you for five years, but you never answered.”

Malcolm looked away.

Robert glanced at him before focusing back on the road. “Did you not read them?”

“I didn’t want to know anything,” Malcolm freely admitted. “I didn’t want to know how anyone was doing, and a part of me hated the idea of everyone living normal lives after I left.”

Robert clicked his tongue, “Well it doesn’t look like you stopped being blunt.” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, “I’ll rip the band aid off, and tell you, your father’s dead.”

“What?” Malcolm whipped his eyes toward his uncle's grim expression, “How?”

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