Don’t I know it. “I’ve heard.”

“Well, a few of us feel them so strongly that they eventually drive us mad. We lose control over our wolf form. Worse, we lose our loyalty to our pack. We become loose cannons, violent and unstable, and eventually go feral.”

“Shit.” No one had ever mentioned this to me when I was a kid. Wasn’t exactly the stuff of bedtime stories. “And that’s what happened to your father?”

He nodded. “When I was eighteen.”

That’s how old he’d been when we’d formally met. My own mother had died that same year. I’d thought no one could have a worse year than I’d had. I’d been wrong.

“And you had to kill him to save everyone else,” I guessed.

“It’s shifter law to put down those who’ve fallen to the curse.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Anyway, it was the humane thing to do. For everyone.” He held up the flask that sat next to him on the bench. “And this is supposed to keep me from feeling anything.”

“It’s not just whisky, then?”

“No, it’s not. But it’s not working anymore.” He rose and approached me. “It stopped working when you appeared.”

I stiffened and looked up at him, my heart racing. His dark eyes burned into me, tracing over my face. Over my lips. Tension sparked the air between us, and I had the most insane urge to press my hands to his chest. To pull him down to me so that I could kiss him.

“What is it about you?” he whispered, his voice rough. “Why has everything changed? You’re fae—you shouldn’t be able to do this to me.”

Something like hurt pierced me through the heart. Was it because I was pretty now? We’d always had the mate bond—according to fate, at least—but he shouldn’t be able to feel it as long as I wore my enchanted necklace. So was it because I’d grown out of my ugly duckling state?

As much as I wanted him now, I couldn’t forget the words he’d once hurled at me. We’d both been young, but the wound had been real. And I didn’t want to be suckered into being his mate, especially when it could end with my death. No guy was worth dying over.

I stepped back, my mind racing. “It’s timing, that’s all. Stressful with the murders. It’s your imagination.”

Shadows flickered across his eyes, and he nodded. I was sixty-five percent sure he didn’t believe me, but there was nothing else I could say.

Fortunately, the band chose that moment to start playing.

Lachlan’s smile turned grim. “I can go check my father’s crypt now.”

I nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

He gave me a long look, and it was clear as day that he wanted to say no. Instead, he gave a sharp nod.

I followed him through the cemetery, heading toward the mausoleums at the back. There was one for each previous Alpha, the most impressive buildings in the cemetery. As we walked, wind rustled through the trees, and the moonlight scattered on the ground at our feet. The tombstones almost glowed beneath the light, beautiful and solemn. The whole place was lovely, almost, which was strange to say about a cemetery on the same day that a packmate had died. An owl hooted, and it sounded like an admonishment.

As we walked, I asked, “Bill, the victim. Were there any clues?”

His gaze flashed over to mine. “How do you know his name?”

“I had a friend do a little recon.”

He frowned, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Not a person,” I said hurriedly, knowing he wouldn’t like the idea of my friends sneaking around his tower. Guilds infiltrating each other’s towers was very frowned upon. “A raccoon.”

“A raccoon? They shouldn’t even live in London.”

“I know. Doesn’t stop Ralph, though. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about finding the killer.” I gripped his arm, and he stiffened.

I’d forgot how opposed to touch he was. He’d cut himself off from it for so long, according to the cook I’d spoken to.

He pulled away, his breathing sharp.

I flexed my hand, feeling the burn of his flesh still imprinted into my palm. My words were rough as they escaped my throat. “What about Bill?”

He seemed to exert a conscious effort to rein himself in. “The dark eyes that the apothecary mentioned are a sign of the Dark Moon curse. Whoever is killing my pack has it.”

Shit. “The poisoning took planning. But if the killer is going mad, changing weapons makes sense. He no longer has the control he once had.”

“That’s my thought.”

“And it could be a shifter from any pack?”

He nodded. “I’m putting out word to the other packs, asking if they’ve lost anyone to it recently. Why they’d target us, I don’t know.”

“We’ll figure it out.” If his father’s grave really had been disturbed, that could be a big clue.

We’d reached the mausoleum at the back of the cemetery, right at the base of the looming city wall. Moonlight gleamed on it like a spotlight, almost as if the fates knew exactly where we were headed.

We’re going to find something here.

The thought was so eerie that it sent a shiver across my skin. I ignored it and focused on the scene, trying to pick up any clues. It was an impressive structure, about three meters by four, if I had to guess. Carved with ornate swirls and inset with marble, it was definitely the nicest one here.

Had it been Lachlan who’d done that? In guilt over his father’s death?

He stopped about two meters from the entrance and knelt to inspect the ground. “No tracks. No recent scent.”

“May I approach the door?” I asked.

He nodded and stood, following me.

The huge stone slab that acted as a door seemed to be slightly off kilter, like it had been moved aside and put back in a rush.

“Someone has been here,” he said.

I shivered, imagining them prying the heavy door off to reach the body inside.

Carefully, Lachlan gripped either side of the door and lifted it, moving it to the left. The thing had to weigh two or three hundred kilograms, but he picked it up like it was nothing.

“Whoever broke in had to be strong,” I said, as he gently leaned the slab against the wall.

He just grunted.

The interior of the mausoleum was pitch black, so I withdrew my mobile and turned on the torch. When I shone it inside, I gasped.

The place was a mess. The stone sarcophagus inside had been smashed to bits, and bones were scattered through the room. I couldn’t even tell if his father had been buried as a wolf or a man.

Anger vibrated in Lachlan’s voice. “The killer didn’t just take the claw.”

I shivered as I stared at the scene. Rage seemed to permeate the space, as if the shattered stone and scattered bones told a story of unimaginable anger.

“Oh, no,” I breathed.

Slowly, he walked inside, careful to avoid any of the disturbed interior. “I can’t smell whoever was here, and it doesn’t look like anything was left behind.”

I followed him in, sticking close to the wall near the door. I didn’t want to destroy any of the evidence, even though I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.

A business card with his name and address on it, ideally.