11

A little over three hours later, just as the sun slipped below the horizon, we pulled into Lynerd’s neighborhood. Unlike last time, the pack wasn’t blocking our way, but Lynerd stood outside his house with his arms crossed and two male shifters behind him. A group of five women in long dresses also stood in the yard. They had to be witches from Sybil’s coven.

I climbed out of the car, lifting my chin. I needed to address Sybil’s death first—that was what she deserved.

The others followed suit, exiting their vehicles.

Lynerd scanned our group, his gaze landing on Zeke. He scowled, “What is he doing here?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” I pointed at Zeke. “But know that stab wound you see was done by my hands.”

He arched a brow and observed me once more. “At least he got some sort of punishment.”

Zeke had no clue what sort of punishment I was about to inflict.

“Where’s Sybil?” A pale-skinned woman with long ebony hair stepped forward. The scent of herbs hit my nose, confirming they we