Page 5 of BeWolfed

Lola gave me a dry look. "More like I try to keep you from getting yourself killed. Midnight Creek’s politics are a minefield right now."

"So I’ve noticed," Elowen murmured, wrapping her fingers around her glass. "You hear anything about Rose?"

Lola sighed, crossing her arms. "Not directly. But something’s been shifting. The pack’s been more aggressive lately—Curtis, in particular, has been sniffing around places he never used to care about."

That got my attention. Curtis had always been ambitious, but if he was pushing beyond his usual reach, that meant trouble. "How aggressive?"

"Like he’s not entirely himself anymore." Lola’s lips pressed together in a thin line. "Blood magic doesn’t just make people stronger—it makes them... different. Twists their instincts. Curtis was here last night, watching. And if he saw you two together, word’s already spreading."

Elowen absorbed that in silence, her grip tightening around her glass. "You think the pack had something to do with my aunt’s disappearance?"

"I think they’re involved in something bigger than just pack politics," Lola said carefully. "And whatever Rose was looking into? It made her a target."

Elowen’s magic flickered at the edges of my senses—controlled, but simmering beneath her skin. "Then we need to find out what she knew."

Lola nodded, then leaned against the table, fixing me with a pointed look. "And you? You sure you want to drag her into this, Kane? Blood magic corruption doesn’t just disappear. Once it takes root, it spreads."

Elowen answered before I could. "I'm already in it. Rose is my family. I’m not backing down."

Lola studied her for a long moment, then let out a small, approving huff. "Good. Just don’t get yourselves killed before you figure this out. I like my informants breathing."

She straightened, giving me one last meaningful glance before disappearing back toward the bar. I watched her go, then turned back to Elowen.

"Blood magic takes natural inclinations and corrupts them," I said, returning to her earlier question. "Loyalty becomes blind obedience. Protection becomes possession. I've seen it firsthand—watched pack members I'd grown up with transform from family into fanatics."

Elowen’s expression darkened. "Then we have to stop it."

I nodded. "Yeah. We do."

A commotion at the bar interrupted us. A young wolf—barely past his first shift by the look of him—had backed a witch into the corner. I recognized him as one of the local alpha's newer recruits, his eyes tinged with the faint redness that signaled early blood magic influence.

"You witches think you're so special with your fancy college and your books," he snarled, eyes flickering with that unnatural reddish tint. "Maybe it's time someone showed you—"

I was moving before conscious thought, my hand closing around the young wolf's wrist. "Enough." My voice dropped to the alpha register that made subordinate wolves instinctively submit.

The young wolf's eyes widened, his head tilting slightly before he caught himself. "You're not pack," he spat. "You don't command me, lone wolf."

"He doesn't," came Elowen's voice from behind me, steady and calm. "But I imagine the Silver Flask's neutrality wards do." She nodded toward the ceiling where ancient runes glowed warning. "Unless you want to find out what happens when you break them?"

The young wolf hesitated, confusion flickering across his face. He looked at me, then at Elowen, nostrils flaring as he caught our combined scents.

"A witch and a lone wolf," he sneered, though he backed away. "How fitting. Both betraying your own kind." His gaze shifted tome. "The alpha knows you're interfering. He says to remind you what happened to your father."

My claws threatened to emerge. The young wolf smirked before backing toward the door, the witch he'd cornered already forgotten.

"Well," Elowen said as we returned to our booth, the privacy wards reactivating. "That was informative."

"How so?" I struggled to push back the rage the wolf's words had triggered.

"He confirmed the alpha knows about your investigation." Her eyes met mine, sharp and assessing. "And that something happened to your father. Something they think will scare you off."

I didn't answer immediately. My father's murder wasn't something I discussed—not with anyone. But those intelligent eyes held mine, waiting with unexpected patience.

"It won't," I finally said. "Scare me off."

She nodded, accepting the non-answer. "Good. Because if my aunt is involved with this blood magic corruption, we need to find her before they do whatever they did to your father."

We.The word hung between us, presumptuous and strangely right. I should refuse. I worked alone for good reasons. Getting close to others—especially a witch with unpredictable magic and eyes that saw too much—was dangerous. For both of us.

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