Page 67 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“It happened the same month I started turning over the hunters.” I stop pacing. “And the man Bella described matches Leroy, the one who runs muscle for the local syndicate. I don’t think I’ve ever crossed him face to face. But if he’s putting hands on my family, I want him handled.”

“I’ll dig.” Adrian nods slowly. Then, carefully, “And the woman. The night the two of you had.”

I’m quiet. “Voss is sitting on something,” I say at last. “Put people on the old ground. Footage from those weeks, ten years back, every place I stayed.”

“That’s near impossible, Marcus.”

“Then a person. Somebody over there remembers me, footage or not. A bartender, a desk clerk, somebody.” I meet his eyes. “Find them.”

“You’re right.” He gets up. “There’ll be someone.”

He’s halfway to the steps when I stop him. “My uncle. How’s he handling the investigation?”

Adrian goes still. He takes a second too long to answer. “He isn’t. I raised it with him. He says Bella had an allergic reaction, nothing more. He says it couldn’t have been wolfsbane.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

“You want to take this update to him?” Adrian asks.

I think about it and then murmur, “No. I’d rather he didn’t know about Mia. Not yet.” I look back toward the dark house, where my daughter and her mother are both asleep under my roof. “Stay on this. Pull in your most trusted men and women. This is too much for one set of hands. But everything comes back to me first.”

Adrian holds my gaze a beat. Then he dips his head.

“Yes, Alpha.”

For the first time in ten years, I don’t correct him.

Chapter Fourteen

Jessa

The smell of bacon rouses me out of a deep sleep. My eyes flutter open, and for a second I don’t know the ceiling above me, the heavy curtains, the weight of a mattress much better than mine. Then it comes back, all of it. The festival, the poison, the drive out here. I’m up and moving before my feet find their slippers.

I make my way to Mia’s room, and when I throw the door open, my daughter’s name dies on my tongue. She’s not there. The bed is disheveled as if nobody bothered to make it. The sounds of pans clanging downstairs has me hurrying down the steps. But as soon I enter the kitchen, I freeze.

It looks like a war zone. Every burner’s going, a carton of eggs sits open with two shells crushed beside it, and flour’s all over the counter, though nothing on the stove needs flour. Marcus stands at the stove in a gray T-shirt, sleeves shoved up his forearms, prodding at a pan. And at the table, between him and the window, sit both girls.

Mia’s awake.

My knees nearly buckle. She’s pale, a blanket around her shoulders, but her eyes are open and clear, and she’s watching Bella draw something on a napkin. Then she turns her head and sees me.

“Morning, Mom.” She smiles.

I cross the kitchen and have her in my arms before the word’s finished. She’s warm, breathing against my neck, her hair smelling of someone else’s shampoo, and I hold her until she squirms.

“How do you feel?” I pull back and search her face. “Are you okay? Tell me the truth.”

“I’m okay.” She yawns wide enough to crack her jaw. “Just really, really tired. Can I eat and then go back to sleep?” Her expression scrunches. “Can I skip school today?”

“It’s Saturday, baby.”

“Oh.” She brightens. “Then can we have a sleepy day in?”

Marcus looks over from the stove. “What’s a sleepy day in?”

Bella’s already leaning across the table. “Yeah, what is it?”

“It’s when you push the couches together,” Mia explains, warming to it, “and you make a giant nest with all the blankets, and you watch movies and snuggle and order pizza and don’t get dressed the whole day.”