Snow crunched under Jan's boots as he walked away from the SUV they had just arrived in. A thick white blanket lay on everything, from the naked branches of the oak trees to the high mountain range that curved around the sleepy little town. It glistened happily under Luna's waning glow, vying for attention against the sparkling stars dotting the clear night sky.
But on every rooftop, brick chimneys poked through the bleached cover, puffing out warm wood smoke from the hearths beneath. Cozy, cookie-cutter homes lined the straight but narrow streets in neat rows. Their brownish-red walls and white trimmings decorated with colorful Christmas lights reminded Jan of a life-sized gingerbread village.
The warm glow in their rustic square windows beckoned him in from the cold. It was surreal and difficult to imagine this picturesque location as the scene of a brutal attack.
From the sidewalk where he stood, a caution tape wrapped around a line of red cones leading up to one of the cottage doors. Another cordoned-off area covered the gap between the house and its neighbor. Up and down the lane, more brightly colored plastic marked places of importance to the investigation.
The street was clear of vehicles. And already, a Lycan stood at the edge, directing the column of SUVs that had just deposited Jan, Eric, Zyga, Chris, and four of his staff away from the crime scene.
Police cars blocked each end of the narrow stretch of road, stopping the inquisitive eyes and unwary feet from destroying any evidence not already found. It has been days since the first report, but people still braved the cold, trying to get a glimpse from beyond the security lines.
Two Lycans walked up to them wearing military-grade heavy black jackets and boots. Though they stopped a few paces before their beta, their hard amber-hued gazes remained on Jan, making their thoughts of him crystal clear.
He was not welcome.
"Freya!"
"Yes, Beta." The short-haired woman reluctantly took her eyes off Jan.
"He's Alpha's guest." A sharp note laced Eric's baritone.
"I know that, sir."
"Good. Make sure you and your men remember it."
"Yes, sir." Bright spots appeared on her cheeks, and she lowered her head.
Eric shifted, turning towards the salt-and-pepper-haired wolf on his other side. "Zyga, meet Captain Freya Gaines, head of the tracking team leading the investigation. Freya, this is-"
The she-wolf gasped, her eyes bulging.
"The Zyga of Snow Pines. He holds the record for the most successful hunts in North America," her male colleague muttered in a reverent whisper.
"Yes," her beta answered, clearing his throat. "He's kindly offered his services. I need you to walk him through the scene, especially where the bodies were found."
"An honor. This way, sir." She led them further down the road to two cottages with no lights in their windows. "Being a border town, the folks here are proud warriors, tracing their roots to some of the founding fathers of our pack. Most don't know any other life outside the military. So, the Thanksgiving Games are sacred for them, especially this year. Seven of their kids had their first moon. And nearly anyone who could move traveled upcountry to support them at the outing—those left behind were the old or the ones too sick to make the trip."
At the front of the first empty house, she lifted the red tape with "Do not enter" written in bold black letters across it.
Though Freya stretched up on tiptoes, Zyga had to lower his head in order to slip under the barrier. She immediately handed the ribbon over to her colleague and followed her idol.
YOU ARE READING
Blooded Mate
Fantasy[[MATURE CONTENT]] Pack, family, mate. Loyalty, respect, honor. These are the words that form the foundation of the wolf society. At six years old, Ethan had to choose between his Alpha title and his survival on the night of his father's death. As a...
