We spent the next little bit chatting. I found out that Mrs. O’Collins was an old lady in their town. The teenagers liked to prank her by moving her yard ornaments and potted plants around, but they always came back to put everything back the way she wanted. Poor lady.

Despite the fact that Bhrunyz could show up at any second to kill me, I had a nice break away from the stronghold. All told, I was only gone an hour and forty-five minutes. I had an impossibly full belly and had finally made some progress. If Donovan wasn’t having any luck spying through the pack bonds, then at least I’d know what the brooch looked like soon.

I hoped McTavish sent me the information before the pack meeting. If not, it wouldn’t matter what the brooch looked like. Because in an hour and fifteen minutes, Donovan was going to rip apart his pack to find the traitor.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

When I got back to the stronghold, I went straight to Donovan’s apartment to see if he was done, but he was still in the sitting room. His eyes were closed as he meddled with the pack bonds. I didn’t want to distract him, so I decided to dig through his files while I waited to hear from McTavish.

I went for Vivian’s file first. I didn’t want to seem like I was harping on her, but I couldn’t help but assume she was the killer.

Vivian was a mad wolf. Mad wolves did very evil, very irrational things. Setting Bhrunyz on her own pack could only be the action of a psychopath.

I knew I should keep my options open, but I couldn’t help it. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the three file folders that held information about Vivian. I couldn’t believe three folders weren’t enough to get her kicked out of the pack.

I flipped through papers and clippings from newspapers filled with Donovan’s scribbles. There were cuttings from crimes in Shannon, Dublin, and Cork. In his notes, Donovan wondered if Vivian had anything to do with them. Then records of complaints from other pack members and visiting Weres: items reported stolen after Vivian had commented on them, threats she’d issued, and some slights she’d committed. Some of the accusations against her were just typical Were issues. Others were a little more severe. At the end of each report, Donovan had written “no proof.”

Shit. At some point, he should’ve accepted that she was rotten and called a tribunal.

The last report was Ciara’s. I closed the file and threw it on the floor. I didn’t need to read about that. I already knew enough.