Page 20 of Red Hood, Bad Wolf

In the deepening dusk, a wolf's howl echoed through the trees. It might have been a greeting.

It might have been a warning.

Chapter 7

"Her questions weren'tright. She knew too much about Red Hood procedures—about silver testing, about how we identify feral transitions. Things that aren't common knowledge."

Alder looked up from behind his desk, his green eyes sharp with concern. The mate bond carried his worry to her, tangled with threads of defensive protectiveness. "Mae's lived alongside Red Hoods for decades."

"She asked about silver testing." The words burst out in a rush. "About how we determine early signs of moon madness. Specific details about how silver affects wolves before they turn feral." Rowan's voice cracked. "That's classified information. Even most Red Hoods don't know the exact procedures unless they're field certified."

The mate bond rippled with Alder's unease. He stood, moving around the desk toward her. "What exactly did she say?"

"She mentioned how silver can force a shift, make the madness show itself." Rowan's training finally broke through the bond's haze. "Those were her exact words. Then she asked about early symptoms, about how we track ferals, about our weaknesses—" She cut herself off, remembering more. "And her herb collection. Wolfsbane mixed with cooking herbs. Who does that? And the tea. I’m still shaking off the sluggishness."

His jaw tightened. "Her tea is probably too potent for a human."

"Maybe." Rowan resumed pacing, her boots silent on the hardwood floor. "And her movements, Alder. The way she blocked exits, monitored sight lines. Those aren't grandmother behaviors. They're predator behaviors." She stopped, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I know how this sounds. I know the mate bond is screaming at me that I'm wrong, that I'm betraying pack trust. But my training—" Her voice broke. "My training says something's very wrong."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with implication. Outside, a crow called a warning to its mate.

"There's more," Rowan said softly. "When she talked about your mother..." She hesitated as pain flashed across Alder's face. "She said something about how the Red Hoods were 'less discriminating' back then. Asked very specific questions about how we determine if someone's truly gone feral. And the way she talked about the territory, about humans encroaching—" She shivered despite the morning warmth. "It wasn't just protective. It was hungry."

Alder's hands clenched. The mate bond carried his turmoil to her—doubt warring with denial, trust battling against instinct. "You're sure about this?"

"No," Rowan admitted. "That's what terrifies me. The mate bond keeps trying to make me doubt everything I noticed. But..." She crossed to him, laying her hand over his. "Alder, you know how extensive Red Hood training is. How many signs of predatory behavior we're taught to recognize. Everything in me is saying something's wrong, even with the bond trying to convince me otherwise."

His fingers interlaced with hers, drawing strength from the contact. "What do you want to do?"

"I need to talk to her again." Rowan squeezed his hand. "This time without letting the mate bond or tea cloud my judgment. I need to know if I'm seeing threats where none exist, or if—" She couldn't finish the thought.

Fury rolled through the mate bond like thunder. Alder's hands clenched on the edge of his desk, knuckles white. "You're accusing my grandmother of what, exactly? Being a secret murderer? Taking trophies from victims?"

The rage in his voice made Rowan step back, her wolf instincts responding to an Alpha's anger even as her human side tried to stand firm. "I'm saying something isn't right. These aren't normal questions, normal behaviors—"

"Normal?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "You've known her for what, a few days? And suddenly you're an expert on what's normal for her?" The desk creaked under his grip. "She raised me after your kind murdered my mother."

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