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Authors: Natalie Shaw
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asked.
“I don't know. They're trying to say he ran away because he was too afraid to become alpha. But that's rubbish.”
“Who's they ?”
“There's lots of rumours, and I'd bet good money I know who started them.”
“Drayton?”
Freda nodded. “It's common knowledge that Hill has been gravely ill for some time. People began to speculate on who the successor would be. Naturally, Rayma's name was on most people's lips.”
“How did he feel about that?”
“Scared, nervous, but not so much that he'd run away. He'd never do that, and he'd never leave me.”
“What do you think has happened to him?”
“I don't know, but I'm pretty sure who's behind it. Drayton is desperate to become alpha, but he doesn't dare challenge Rayma because he knows he'd come out second best. As far as I can see, he's the only person who benefits from Rayma's disappearance.”
“Talk me through what happened. When was the last time you saw him?”
“We exercise our wolves on Tuesday nights—it's a regular thing for us. That particular Tuesday, I got a call from the hospital to say there was a major incident, and that I was needed. Rayma wanted to wait until I came back, but those types of emergencies are unpredictable. I might have been there all night. I told him to go by himself. The thing is—when I arrived at the hospital, there was no major incident. No one knew why I'd been called in.”
“Did you recognise the voice on the phone?”
“No, but that's not all that unusual. We use lots of casual staff. I tried to call Rayma to tell him to wait for me, but he didn't pick up the call. When I got back, he'd already gone. That was the last time I saw him.”
“What time was the call from the hospital?”
“It must have been just after seven-thirty.”
Craven took a note of Freda's phone number, and then made his excuses and left. Before he did, he promised that he'd do everything within his power to trace her mate. What he didn't tell her was that he thought there was a good chance Rayma was already dead. Once he was outside, he made a phone call.
“Craven,” Grosvenor said. The head of security had recognised the ex-alpha's voice immediately. “Good to hear from you. I've just been speaking with your mate.”
“Were you able to help with Marlow?”
“Not yet, but I've got my people on it. Do you want me to keep you posted?”
“No. It'll be better if you liaise directly with Louise. I do have something else for you though.”
“Shoot.”
Craven gave him Freda's number, and the time of the phone call which had supposedly come from the hospital. “How long will it take you?”
“Give me twenty minutes, and I'll call you back.”
It actually took less than five minutes. When he got back to Craven, Grosvenor was able to confirm the location where the call had originated. It wasn't the hospital.
*********
Greenide was the underbelly of the Terroun territory. Even in Craven's day the district had had its problems. Drunks and other addicts—human and shifter—all seemed to congregate there. From what Craven now saw, things had gotten a whole lot worse. Even after so long away, Craven was still recognised in most parts of the territory, but not here. As he made his way through the back streets, hardly anyone made eye contact, and those who did were too out of it to register him.
The lifts were both out of order, and looked as though they had been for some time. The staircase reeked of urine. There was no number on the door, but Craven worked out by the numbers on either side that this was the flat he wanted. He pounded on the door loud enough to wake the dead. Nothing. Craven took two steps back and then threw himself, shoulder first, at the door. It shattered.
“Hello!” He made his way down the dimly lit corridor. “Anyone here?”
As he passed by each door, he kicked it wide open. He got lucky on door number three. Lying on the bed, totally out of it, was a male shifter. The
“I don't know. They're trying to say he ran away because he was too afraid to become alpha. But that's rubbish.”
“Who's they ?”
“There's lots of rumours, and I'd bet good money I know who started them.”
“Drayton?”
Freda nodded. “It's common knowledge that Hill has been gravely ill for some time. People began to speculate on who the successor would be. Naturally, Rayma's name was on most people's lips.”
“How did he feel about that?”
“Scared, nervous, but not so much that he'd run away. He'd never do that, and he'd never leave me.”
“What do you think has happened to him?”
“I don't know, but I'm pretty sure who's behind it. Drayton is desperate to become alpha, but he doesn't dare challenge Rayma because he knows he'd come out second best. As far as I can see, he's the only person who benefits from Rayma's disappearance.”
“Talk me through what happened. When was the last time you saw him?”
“We exercise our wolves on Tuesday nights—it's a regular thing for us. That particular Tuesday, I got a call from the hospital to say there was a major incident, and that I was needed. Rayma wanted to wait until I came back, but those types of emergencies are unpredictable. I might have been there all night. I told him to go by himself. The thing is—when I arrived at the hospital, there was no major incident. No one knew why I'd been called in.”
“Did you recognise the voice on the phone?”
“No, but that's not all that unusual. We use lots of casual staff. I tried to call Rayma to tell him to wait for me, but he didn't pick up the call. When I got back, he'd already gone. That was the last time I saw him.”
“What time was the call from the hospital?”
“It must have been just after seven-thirty.”
Craven took a note of Freda's phone number, and then made his excuses and left. Before he did, he promised that he'd do everything within his power to trace her mate. What he didn't tell her was that he thought there was a good chance Rayma was already dead. Once he was outside, he made a phone call.
“Craven,” Grosvenor said. The head of security had recognised the ex-alpha's voice immediately. “Good to hear from you. I've just been speaking with your mate.”
“Were you able to help with Marlow?”
“Not yet, but I've got my people on it. Do you want me to keep you posted?”
“No. It'll be better if you liaise directly with Louise. I do have something else for you though.”
“Shoot.”
Craven gave him Freda's number, and the time of the phone call which had supposedly come from the hospital. “How long will it take you?”
“Give me twenty minutes, and I'll call you back.”
It actually took less than five minutes. When he got back to Craven, Grosvenor was able to confirm the location where the call had originated. It wasn't the hospital.
*********
Greenide was the underbelly of the Terroun territory. Even in Craven's day the district had had its problems. Drunks and other addicts—human and shifter—all seemed to congregate there. From what Craven now saw, things had gotten a whole lot worse. Even after so long away, Craven was still recognised in most parts of the territory, but not here. As he made his way through the back streets, hardly anyone made eye contact, and those who did were too out of it to register him.
The lifts were both out of order, and looked as though they had been for some time. The staircase reeked of urine. There was no number on the door, but Craven worked out by the numbers on either side that this was the flat he wanted. He pounded on the door loud enough to wake the dead. Nothing. Craven took two steps back and then threw himself, shoulder first, at the door. It shattered.
“Hello!” He made his way down the dimly lit corridor. “Anyone here?”
As he passed by each door, he kicked it wide open. He got lucky on door number three. Lying on the bed, totally out of it, was a male shifter. The
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