Page 68 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

The reply from Kale came swiftly:

Alpha approves. Be there in two hours.

When I emerged from my room, Ida had gone home to check onMeredith the mandrake and Maya was scampering around the living room in rat form.

It must’ve been so terribly hard for her not to shift. Why had she allowed that twit Desmond to hurt her like that?

It was a rhetorical question, because I knew why. It was never fast, the control grab. No, it was tiny pokes and prods, assiduously applied guilt and abuse and coaxing. It was small cracks that you didn’t see until the ground beneath your feet became so dangerous you had to navigate it on your tiptoes lest it crater open and swallow you.

And all those careful footsteps, all those shoulder-slumped, head-down moments gradually drained away every drop of who you were until one day you looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back.

I’d done a brief stint in a relationship like that. I was young, and he was a take-charge, alpha-male type I’d romanticized myself into thinking was a good guy. Thankfully, he hadn’t been mature enough to play the long game, like Desmond had. He’d almost immediately begun tearing me down—accusing me of cheating, telling me I needed to lose weight then accusing me of trying to look good for other guys when I did. Ridiculing my mom, my friends, and the things I enjoyed, like classic music, black clothing, and even my beloved saguaros.

It was the last that had finally awakened me. Turned out, I’d loved Red even more than I’d loved myself, and when the jackass started picking on him, it didn’t take long for me to see the light.

I smiled as Maya’s sleek white body scampered up the side of the fireplace, across the mantel, and down the other side. Despite everything going on, I experienced a moment of pure happiness knowing I’d helped her the way Red had helped me.

Well, Bronwyn, Margaux,andI had helped.

Bronwyn.

And with that, I was back to gloomy.

“I’m going to make some jam thumbprint cookies, so don’t gonear the oven, okay?” I said this to the sofa she’d scuttled beneath. “Also, no pooping on the floor. The bathroom door is open. Use it.”

Maya popped out from under the sofa, darted up my leg, and bit my kneecap through my jeans. Then she retreated under the sofa.

“Ouch! Hey, it’s a legitimate concern.”

Her reply was a squeaky little chitter that sounded like Cecil when he was pissed at me.

I switched on KLXX and spent the next hour baking. The strawberry jam was fresh—I’d bought it along with some boysenberry at the local farmer’s market a week or so ago in case I needed to bribe Cecil in the near future—and the cookies turned out great.

I’d checked my phone every two minutes while baking, and even futilely texted Ronan. If he’d had his phone, he’d have answered by now. Still, it made me feel like I was doing something besides makingfreaking cookiesfor an alpha leader who might or might not help me while Ronan was out there, definitely missing, possibly hurt.

Or worse.

No. You’re not going down that path, Betty.

Half an hour before the rat alpha was supposed to arrive, Fennel padded into the kitchen. I’d prepped the coffeemaker and was brewing a pot of mint tea to have something to offer. It felt pointless, tedious, and I was borderline manic with everything going on, but I wanted to make a good impression on the alpha leader.

If all went well, I might score some information from her.

If all went well.

“Fennel, you should probably make yourself scarce. Rats don’t usually like cats.”

He swished his tail hard and gave me an annoyed look.

“Oh, we’re not that narrow-minded,” a feminine voice called out from the front door. “In fact, I happen to own two myself. As much as anyone can own a cat, I suppose.”

Chapter

Fifteen

Ilurched across the kitchen and into the living area. A Mexican-American woman stood at the door, flanked by Kale and Denzel.

She was tall—at least six foot—with a fit, muscular build. Her waist-length hair was the shade of perfectly balanced soil and her large eyes were half-hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses. She was younger than me by a couple years, at least, and there was an aura of natural power surrounding her that I’d never felt around Alpha Floyd.

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