phin

ntrast to his brother's cold composure. His tailored clothes were rumpled, his face was pa

I stood by the bar, projecting an aura of calm c

"I'm Julian Sinclair. A friend of mine-a man named George-ga

be taken to the authorities. Julian had been studying abroad and foolish enough to get himself tangled in a dispute with a local pack that outranked his own. I had

r. I received your message. A late-night

ckered to Leo, who stood impassively by the door, then back to me. Understanding dawned

veled hair. "Then you know why I'm here. I need your hel

an armchair.

ed spring of anxiety. Zoe offered him a g

. "This is about the murder accusation ag

ture of shock and a dawning, frantic hope. "You kn

cunning I'd expect from a man orchestrating his brother's downfall. My internal ass

rted, is compelling. He was the last person to see Xavier Sterling alive

d, the color drained fur

ntial! It's a setup! I know my brother. He's a lot of things-he's hard, he's cold-

him. His defense was passionate, rooted in a

leading. "George said you could help. He said you saw things other people m

involves the line of succession for the Blackwood Pack. The

check, sliding it onto the table. "This is a retainer. Five

mall, dismissive laugh. "Mr. Sinclair, you ha

e. He sank back into the chair, defeat

asn't after his money. I was after his com

. "I take on a situation for two reasons, and two reaso

e. I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a confidential murmur.

the force of my will into it, trying to s

eceit, but a desperate, cornered sincerity. He s

low but steady. "Every word I've told you is the truth. I am not try

long, silent moment. T

up the check. I didn't look at the amount. I simply fo

f professional amusement in my voice. "Yo