Page 103 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
My eyes darted to Rory, who looked up sharply, shuffling back towards the screen.
Hey, I need to talk to you. Hopefully in person? I know we haven’t seen each other in a while. But it’s about everything at Meridian. This is wild, but I’ve found evidence that your family might be somehow connected? Can we meet? I know I hurt you, and you probably don’t want to see me ever again, but this is really important.
Rory’s face paled, and his throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Well, I’m sure Carrie will have all the answers,” he said, his voice brittle with forced confidence.
His phone vibrated—Kit had already come through with a number. Rory immediately dialled, putting the phone on speaker.
“Hello? This is Rory Thorne. I’m looking for Carrie MacGregor? Sorry to bother you, but her phone is off, and it’s urgent.”
A gruff male voice responded. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m a friend. I’ve been trying to reach her.”
“Well, you’re out of luck. She hasn’t been seen for two weeks. Since the end of April.”
Rory’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with alarm. The date matched up almost perfectly with Dev’s disappearance.
“Two weeks? Is that normal for her?”
“No,” the voice said.
“Did you know that she was investigating missing shifters?” asked Rory.
A long pause stretched across the line. When the voice returned, it was sharper, more guarded. “Who exactly are you? And how do you know about that? Did you say you’re a Thorne?” There was an edge to the man’s tone now.
Rory paused before answering. “I’m not in the Glenmoriston pack. I left them years ago.”
Another stretched silence.
“Let me know if you find out where she is,” he said at last. Then hung up before I could interject and demand more information.
“Well, that was helpful.”
Knock, knock, knock.
Three sharp taps on the front door had all four of us jumping out of our skin.
A dark look crossed Rory’s face as he inhaled sharply through his nose. “Time’s up. They’re here.”
15
Rory
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound came again, and I groaned, moving towards the door.
I’d already caught their scent. Tariq stood on the other side of our cottage door. And with him, that unmistakable stench of undiluted arrogance that could only be Callum Reid.
“Stay there,” I muttered, my stomach clenching as I opened the door just a crack to prevent them from seeing our unexpected guests.
“Hello?” I kept my voice casual, like I wasn’t panicking about the evidence of our investigation spread across the cottage.
Tariq stood ramrod straight in his usual formal posture, Callum slightly behind him, glowering. The scar through his left eyebrow was tugged downwards as he scowled at me. He had no signs of injury from our scuffle—either they’d healed or were hidden under the thick hoodie he wore. Had he even told anyone we’d fought? I wondered what my mother would think of her precious protégé ambushing me in the woods.
“We’ve got a message for you from Edina,” Tariq announced, his tone clipped and efficient as always.
“Did she not fancy the walk herself?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
