Page 93 of Claimed By Prince Daddy

My lower lip trembled. “S-She’s gone. Chelsea is—” My voice broke off. I couldn’t force myself to say the word or give life to it. Dead. The little girl who’d gifted the world in warmth with her free-spirited disposition was dead. Murdered.

Knees buckling, I sank to the forest floor. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t even have the strength to wipe them away. My limbs felt numb. I was alpha. Protector of my pack. And someone killed an innocent—one of my innocent’s—in my territory.

Alexandra dropped to one knee and embraced me. Her own tears soaked the strands of my hair. My inner wolf threw back her head and howled in anguish. After crying out, I let myself sink into Alexandra’s embrace. I clung to her, siphoning the heat and comfort she offered. My insides quivered, bile threatening to roll up my throat as I thought back to Hunt—still perhaps searching for his daughter.

How do I tell Danika?

“Chelsea’s death will not go unpunished, Sasha,” Garret growled. His eyes glowed amber, fangs lengthening. “Those fuckers will pay.”

I knew that my second in command referred to the werebears. My veins were streaming with boiling rage. I fisted my hands to keep the claws from slicing out in front of the humans, wracking my brain for what werebear clans could be responsible. Could it have been the Stoneclaw clan? Damon’s blue eyes, hooded with lust, sprang to the forefront of my thoughts.

Is Damon capable of killing an innocent—a latent child—in cold blood?

My inner wolf pawed at the edges of my mind, reassuring me that our mate would not kill one of our own. At that moment, I thought back to Damon’s words he uttered the day he encroached on my territory.

“I know my bears. None would kill a human. Even if they had a bloodlust for the non-weres, the risk of defying me would’ve shut down any plans in motion. I don’t know how the hell it’s happening, but the werebears are being forced against their will to kill humans.”

I mulled his words over. If the werebears were being forced, then another enemy was responsible for Chelsea’s murder. Rising to my feet on weary legs, I staggered closer to the clearing. The cops shot wary glances my way, as if fearing I’d attempt to make a break for the girl. Garret strode past me and went to the nearest officer. The two conversed in hushed tones. Alexandra came to stand by my side.

“Alpha, if this is too much, you don’t have to be here any longer. Let Garret take things over from here.”

I remained and took a deep breath. After a moment stretched on, she reached for my arm.

“Wait,” I told her, throwing out a hand. “I think I caught a whiff of something.”

Alexandra blinked, lowering her arm.

Then I parted my lips, dragging in the surrounding scents. The crisp tang of pine, the cloying smell of humans, the sulfur of gunpowder all mingled together. Chelsea’s blood overlaid all the odors, the metallic smell burning the back of my throat. Another whiff pricked my nostrils, and I sniffed again. The smell was unquestionable and there. It clung to Chelsea’s body, thickening the air around the clearing.

A smoky odor—iron in smell, dark like noxious gas. It didn’t belong to any other person stationed around the clearing, but it carried with it a distinct presence. Someone was there with Chelsea when she died.

By the rank odor that wafted from the blood spilled from the little girl, it belonged to a Dark Fae. The ancestral essence bore similar notes to the witches that lived in this area.

My nose was never wrong, and even now I trusted its judgment.

And I would not rest until my fangs sank into the Dark Fae’s throat, tasting the lifeblood spilling from its jugular.

I turned toward Alexandra. “Alpha Damon was telling the truth.” I’d briefed my sentinels earlier to the reason Damon had called a meeting with me.

Alexandra cocked her head and replied, “You mean when he said the werebears weren’t responsible for the killings?”

I nodded. Eyes narrowed to thin slits, I whispered, “Chelsea’s killer is Dark Fae.”

Walking on hot coals would’ve felt better than stepping foot into the heart of the Silverfang’s den. I stomped down the network of tunnels forged from the mountainside and noted the many pairs of eyes that watched me. Open astonishment crossed the werewolves’ faces. A few hostile gazes followed me, tracking my every move.

It didn’t surprise me. As a latent, my standing in the pack was never high in the hierarchy. And many felt that I didn’t deserve the rank of Sentinel. When I’d abandoned the Silverfang pack years ago and started out on my own, it cemented the ill feelings in my former pack mates’ hearts. Wolves stuck together. To abandon the pack was unheard of. Slitting one’s throat was preferable to going rogue.

Garret met every slitted look with a vicious glare of his own. Pride for my beta swelled in my chest. My other senior sentinel, Kevin, a tall male with a lean build honed from years of martial combat, never spared the werewolves a second glance. Assured of his strength, he followed my steps, looming like a giant oak—his commanding presence undeniable.

“Sasha?”

I blinked at the melodic lilt that touched my ears. Turning, I saw a female of average height standing in the opening of an adjoining cavern. Tight curly brown hair swept across small shoulders, eyes round in disbelief. Chocolate brown eyes that mirrored my own.

“Sky,” I whispered.

My older sister by three years, Sky, launched herself at me. She flung her arms around my neck. “Oh god, it’s so good to see you! You’ve been away far too long.”

I returned the embrace, nuzzling my face into the slope of her neck, and breathed in her familiar scent of rainfall and wind.

---