The last thing I wanted to do was have a heart-to-heart about me and Declan while I was holding onto the safety handle for dear life, but at least it would be a distraction from how close he was cutting some of the curves.
“Yeah, he has.”
“So when are you two going to make this thing between you official?”
“Elwood, you know I can’t mark him.”
The old man chuckled. “You know, there are other ways of making a relationship official, wolf.”
“Like?”
“Like, rings, ceremonies, and the like. Not everyone bites their mate, you know.”
“I don’t want to rush him. It’s different for my kind. When we know, we know, but for humans or witches, it takes longer.”
“True, but you do know?”
“Yeah, Elwood. I know.”
We made the fifteen-minute drive to the brewery in ten minutes.
He came to a screeching halt in front of the building, and I let out a breath I swear I’d been holding for the last few miles.
Elwood and I weren’t here about Roy’s death. The murder was for Grady to figure out, no matter what Eugene thought, but the hexes were another story. Witches had their own hierarchy and rules, and in this area, Elwood was the elder. He was very bothered by the idea that he might have a rogue witch in his territory.
However, it looked like someone had beaten us out here. The police tape had been cut, and it hung loose on the ground.
“Should we call Grady?” Elwood asked.
“Let’s check it out first. We can call him after.”
I tried the door, and it was unlocked. He followed me inside. The brewhouse was quiet. Too quiet. No hum of machinery, no clatter of bottles, no low murmur of a tour group. Just the faint drip of something somewhere deeper in the building and the lingering weight of what had happened. My wolf didn’t like it.
“Do you want to start up there, and I’ll check the office?”
I looked up to where he pointed, my eyes immediately drawn to the vat Roy had been pulled from.
“We should stick together since we don’t know if anyone is still here,” I said.
Elwood paused near a rack of barrels, eyes half-lidded, as if he was listening to something no one else could hear. I stopped and listened.
The side doors were closed, but my shifter hearing was able to pick up on what was happening inside. Papers shuffling fast, frantic. A drawer slamming.
I turned toward the office at the same time Elwood did, and we reached the doorway together. I opened the door and Nadia stood behind the desk, surrounded by chaos.
Drawers hung open. Papers were spread across every available surface, some stacked, most not. A file lay overturned on the floor, its contents spilling out like something gutted.
She froze when she saw us, and for a second, no one said anything. Then she straightened, one hand bracing against the desk, the other instinctively dropping to the curve of her stomach.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it. Just exhaustion.
“Neither should you,” I said.
Elwood’s eyes flicked over the mess, and I knew he was searching for anything related to the hexes. “Looking for something specific?”
Nadia’s gaze snapped to him, then away just as fast. “I thought this place was going to be mine. That I could find someone to handle the brewing and fulfill the Kettlebrook contract.”
I glanced at Elwood. His expression was calm, but his eyes were watchful.
