“I have my license now.” I flashed him a smile that he didn’t reciprocate. “I’ll get myself there.”
His eyes clouded, as though he wasn’t pleased with my budding independence. Or was my arrangement of getting there on my own not to his liking?
The last and only time I’d gone to the Pines’ headquarters was for Margaux and Robbie Matz’s engagement, and it hadn’t been to celebrate them. I’d gone to secure an alliance with Julian because my cousin had convinced me I’d killed Heath and that the pack would avenge their Alpha’s death by ending my life.
I’d gotten so much more than Julian’s help that day. I’d gotten a confession which had overturned my world: the name of the man who’d murdered my father . . . a man who was still very much alive even though my pack had claimed otherwise.
My heels clicked on the stone staircase that was bare of rose petals and votive candles tonight. Steeling my spine, I stepped past the open doors. The high-ceilinged atrium lined with French windows on one end and dark, wainscoted walls on the other was filled with black-clad grievers. Even the orchid arrangement by the propped picture of Julian was a shade of purple so dark it looked black.
I tried to replace the last image I had of Julian with the blown-up tanned and expressive face staring back at me from within the gilt frame. He would’ve loved that frame, so golden and ornately carved. The man had such a weakness for expensive things.
My gaze surfed over the room until I spotted Sarah. She was opening one of the French windows overlooking the labyrinthian hedges that separated HQ from the deceased’s pale-stone mansion.
As I forded through the copse of wary wolves, I offered condolences to the mourners. From the scrunched brows and skeptic looks, I surmised few believed I was being genuine.
Oh well. I wasn’t here to convince them; I was here for Sarah.
When I finally reached her, I tapped her shoulder, and she spun around, puffy brown eyes growing wide in surprise. Apparently, she hadn’t put much stock into me coming. She hooked her arms around my neck and hugged me tight.
“Twice in a day. What’s the world coming to?” I said into her blonde mane.
She pressed away from me. “Wh-what?”
“You hugging me. That’s twice.”
Her lips quirked up in a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of getting used to anything around here. Everything’s always shifting: alliances, hearts, Alphas . . . people.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Did you just make a joke?”
“Maybe. But don’t get used to it,” I said, using her own words. “I’m not a very funny person.”
Her smile grew a little wider, and then it froze as her gaze locked on a place over my shoulder. She tilted her head toward the entrance.
I turned and saw Lucas and Liam making their way toward us. Both wore black-where Liam had donned a button-down over dark slacks, Lucas sported a T-shirt over jeans.
“Are a lot more of you coming?” Sarah asked after they reached us.
“Why?” Lucas waggled his eyebrow, the one slashed by a white scar. “Afraid of running out of finger food, blondie?”
Liam coughed, probably trying to signal that Lucas’s joke was in poor taste, but Sarah laughed, which won her many scowls.
“I don’t know if more of us are coming.” Liam scanned the room, which from his vantage point, was way easier than from mine. Not quite as tall as August’s six-and-a-half foot frame, Liam was still up there. “Did they release Julian’s body?”
Sarah shook her head. “I doubt they will.” She took a small step toward me, almost as though she were about to drop a kiss on my cheek. “I got all the packets out.”
I squeezed her wrist in gratitude.
“What packets?” Lucas asked, ever so subtle.
Liam must’ve answered Lucas through the mind-link, because the latter blinked.
Sarah nodded. “I put them somewhere safe and cool.”
“Not in your house, I hope,” Lucas said.
Her cheeks pinked. “No.”
“Remind me to play poker with you. You’re a shit liar.”
She flushed a little more.
“Lucas . . .” Liam started, a warning in his voice.
“She shouldn’t keep that shit anywhere near her,” Lucas growled.
Panic tightened my throat. “He’s right, Sarah. Look at what they did to my cousin.”
“Oh.” Even though Sarah’s lids were bloated with tears, they lifted a little higher. “Where should I put them then?”
“You could give them to us,” Lucas offered.
I could tell from the way her head jerked back that she wasn’t fond of the idea. “I don’t think Robbie will go for that.”
Lucas puffed out a breath. “Your brother knows?”
“He helped me get them out,” she murmured.
A nerve ticked in his jaw. “And he let you keep the stash?”
Sarah splayed her hands on her hips. “He trusts me, Lucas.”
I didn’t think trust was the issue.
Before I could say anything, a hush fell over the room, disturbed only by the swish of fabric and the clink of jewelry.
“Don’t stop talkin’ on our account,” came a voice that was becoming familiar all too quickly.
I whirled toward the sweeping staircase. At the top of it stood Cassandra Morgan, barefoot and sheathed in a tunic that resembled a burlap sack.
Sarah hissed before clapping her hands over her ears.
“What did she say?” I whispered.
“She called us her little Creeks,” Sarah muttered.
Cassandra gestured behind her. “I’ve come barin’ a gift.”