Chapter 8 8

He stopped outside a door and faced me directly.

"Prepare yourself."

Gloves. Booties. One firm look that said he wasn't exaggerating.

I stepped in 

and sneezed.

Of all the timing.

Chase. Raven's voice dropped to something primal. We end whoever did this.

Ivan was in a chair. Naked. Chained. His bed behind him was still torn from where he'd been ripped out of it mid-sleep. Every inch of him was carved open  deep, deliberate cuts bleeding into dried black. His mouth was sealed with a gag. Where his eyes should have been 

Nothing.

The wounds glowed faintly green at the edges.

I breathed through my mouth and held my ground.

"Time of death?"

"Within six hours. Rigor's begun but the body hasn't fully cooled." Alex glanced at his notes. "Grace said goodnight to him at midnight."

"The green, what is that? Potion?"

"Simpler than that." He tilted his head. "You haven't been Other long, have you?"

"Long enough to be standing here." I looked at what remained of Ivan. "Not long enough for any of this to feel normal."

"Lord Adrian was a good man," Alex said quietly. "Stubborn. Skeptical of the Connection. But good."

The guilt came the way it always did with no warning, straight to the gut.

I'd killed him. He'd asked me if Reid's poison was already doing its work, and Adrian had refused to die leaving his pack exposed. I'd been the only wolf present.

So I'd done it.

And inherited everything that came with it.

Including this room.

Including those empty, hollow sockets where Ivan's eyes used to be.

And the creeping, certain feeling that whoever had done this It was still close.