Chapter 7: Ferrin

 

“Okay,” I replied, trying to stay composed.

I directed her toward the small sofa near the fireplace. We sat across from each other. She was biting her lip again, and I could tell she was still on edge. I knew the conversation we were about to have wasn’t going to help, but I needed to know more about what happened that night.

“What do you remember from that night,” I asked.

She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. “I remember the crash. Someone had purposely rammed the side of our car, pushing us over an embankment. I remember climbing out.” She looked down at her hands. “I was all cut up from the glass. When I looked to see if my mom had gotten out, I saw someone come up and grab her. I know they fought, but I was too scared to move.”

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

She shrugged. “In his human form, vaguely. But in his lycan form… Yeah. Yeah, I remember what he looks like.”

“That’s good, Willa,” I said as I stood from the chair. I moved to the console table next to the door. I searched through a couple drawers until I found a pen and notepad and brought them back to where Willa was sitting. “Do you think you could write down a description of him?”

She picked up the pen and started dragging it along the surface of the paper. I let her work at it undisturbed for a while, watching as she concentrated. She sat back in the cushions, pulling her feet up to use her knees for support. She would occasionally reach up to push away a curl that had fallen in her face or close her eyes as if she was trying to visualize a certain detail. I didn’t realize how mesmerized I was until she looked up and handed me the notepad.

I cleared my throat and took it from her hand. I looked at the paper to see a drawing of a lycan.

“This is impressive,” I said, admiring her talent.

“He was dark brown in color. His eyes were a little far apart, and had a shorter forehead than most. It’s something, at least.”

I looked back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s easy to remember the nightmare you see every night for thirteen years,” she said, tossing the pen on the coffee table in front of us.

“And he was only after your mother? Not you?” I asked.

Willa fidgeted with her hands, biting her lip again as she looked everywhere but at me.

“Willa?”

“I don’t know if he intended to hurt me or not,” she said. “He was scared off before he got the chance to try.”

“Scared off?” That seemed unlikely. “By who?”

“Me,” she said, standing up and moving to the window.

“What do you mean you scared him off?” I stood and followed her.

“I shifted, okay?” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I watched him standing over my mother and I was just so scared and angry and I just wanted to save her and I shifted.”

Like lycans, werewolves didn’t gain their animals until thirteen or fourteen years old. Occasionally you might see one shift at twelve but at nine? And to go through it alone, under such traumatic circumstances?

It was no wonder her aura was so strong.

“You attacked a full-grown lycan?”

She shrugged. “Almost took his throat out too. But he left me with these.” She pulled the collar of her shirt aside to reveal the deep scars from a set of claws on her shoulder, disappearing beneath the fabric down her chest. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It still wasn’t enough. She still died.”

Pain was etched deeply in her expression. Something other than memories was plaguing her mind, sending her into a trance-like state. Her face continued to contort as her thoughts tormented her.

I closed the distance between us, resting my hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” I called her back to the present. “We’ll figure this out.”

She looked down at my hand on her arm for a moment but didn’t pull away. I fought the small smile that wanted to appear and the desire to pull her closer. I didn’t want to push her too far again.

She looked up at me, her brilliant hazel eyes entrapped me as I tried to pick apart every emotion behind them. Searching for some sign of hope.

A knock on the door made her jump. She brushed my hands away when Damen entered, stepping back to the window. I couldn’t help but notice how empty my hands felt.

“Yes?” I directed at Damen.

“You’re needed in your office,” he replied. He glanced at Willa, offering a small smile.

“I’ll be right there,” I said to him and waited for him to leave the room before turning back to Willa. “I’ll be back later.”

I grabbed the sketch off the sofa and left the room. Damen was waiting outside the door for me. I nodded at the two guards and followed my beta down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I blocked any mind links when I was with Willa, so I didn’t have any idea what this was about.

“I’ve got someone you should meet.”

My curiosity piqued as we made our way to my office on the other side of the castle. I walked in to find a male standing in front of the desk. He was looking around the room before he turned to us as we entered. I caught his scent as I closed my office door. He was a werewolf, but he was one of my subjects.

“Sir, this is Dante Rhodes. He’s a detective in this region. His skills are utilized by several of our local packs,” Damen introduced.

Dante bowed toward me in respect. “My lord, it’s an honor.”

“Likewise,” I said, extending a hand. “What brings you here today?”

“Beta Ambrose, sir,” he replied, shaking my hand firmly.

“You asked me to look into something for you, sir,” Damen stated, taking a seat in front of the desk as I moved around to my chair.

“I did.”

“I can only get so much information here, and I won’t be able to get anything in wolf territory. Even if I could mask my scent successfully, I’m too much of a stranger,” Damen stated. “Dante has actually worked a few cases that have led him into Avilvale.”

“I’m guessing you have connections within the Black Moon Pack, then?” I asked.

“I do,” Dante confirmed.

“Has Beta Damen told you anything about the case?”

“Only that you need information on a suspicious death.”

I nodded. I examined the male in front of me. His aura was strong, but he didn’t fit into any specific hierarchy. That wasn’t uncommon among the werewolves in Whearhal. Since they weren’t allowed a hierarchy for centuries, many still drifted between them or fell outside them altogether. That could be useful in the werewolf territory. There were other aspects of him that convinced me he had some capability in his field, and compounded with Damen’s positive reference, I was confident he could get the job done.

But could we trust him?