"Your territory is... unexpected."
Halloway's smile tightens. "We've worked hard to create a comfortable environment."
"Comfortable." I step closer to the fireplace, examining a photo of Halloway in what appears to be a campaign rally. "And expensive."
His scent shifts, anxiety mingling with pride. "Fiddleback has been blessed with prosperity."
"How does a pack of seventy-four maintain all this?" The question is blunt, my tone making it clear I expect an equally direct answer. "Every house I passed screams of wealth."
Halloway clasps his hands before him. "Our integration strategy has proven financially advantageous, High Alpha. Every member of Fiddleback contributes to our collective through their human-world employment."
"Hmm."
"Our pack members serve as lawyers, engineers, even teachers." His chest puffs up a bit. "I myself have been the county sheriff for a decade. We pull our salaries, invest wisely, and share the proceeds through the pack fund."
Fenris grumbles.
"And your wolves are content with this?" I gesture toward the window, to the manicured lawns and identical houses. "Being trapped in human occupations, playing at human lives?"
Halloway's forehead creases almost imperceptibly before smoothing out again. "We've evolved beyond the limitations of traditional pack structure. Our wolves understand the benefits of adaptation."
I grunt, unimpressed. "I'd like to see my beta."
"Of course. Deputy Marshal Dawson can escort you—"
The title grates on my nerves, and I loose a soft growl.
Halloway's mouth closes with an audible click. He nods to Marsh, who steps forward.
"This way, High Alpha."
Fenris rumbles within me.They're strange.
If there's rot here, I'll find it.
Chapter nine
Caine: Strange (II)
CAINE
The house Marsh leads me to is no different from the others.
Marsh pushes the door open without knocking. No courtesy, not even a perfunctory tap. Interesting.
Inside feels bare, even more than a model home. There are no photos. No art. Nothing personal. Even Halloway's pretentious display of wealth had some semblance of life to it. This place resembles a vacant rental property.
There is furniture, though.
Jack-Eye emerges from what must be the kitchen with Elizabeth trailing behind. His shoulder brushes against hers, a short-lived point of contact, and it speaks volumes. The faint whiff of her scent clings to him.
He catches my eye and winks, an insufferable smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Where are the other two?" I ask Jack-Eye, scanning the barren living room.
"Upstairs." Jack-Eye jerks his thumb toward the ceiling. "The wizard doesn't like being around shifters. Gets the shakes." He drops his voice to a mock whisper. "I think we scare him."
Elizabeth chuckles.
