Kevin started loading the dishwasher with the next set of dirty glasses. “I have no idea, but I’ll be happy

to look it up for you.” Jolene was less than web-savvy.

“Thanks, sugar.” She kissed him on the cheek and ran a hand through his spiky auburn hair. “And no

worries about not being there. I don’t expect you to babysit the cabin or anything. Just thought you might

have a clue as to what’s going on.”

After he got the dishwasher going, Kevin moved out of the pantry and back behind the bar. The club was

filling up fast so he knew he didn’t have much time before the evening rush. He pulled his phone out and

did a quick online search for Tyr—whatever that was. Nothing came up at first, and he thought maybe it

was gang-related, or someone who just couldn’t spell properly, but after Googling it for a few minutes, he

finally got a hit.

Tyr, it turned out, was one of the many Norse gods, a son of Odin. He was also one-handed because

during a great conflict with Fenrir, the wolf god had bitten his hand off.

***

Chapter Fourteen

By the time two a.m. rolled around and his shift ended, Kevin was tired, wired and feeling on edge. He’d

mixed up more than a few drink orders that night, and he’d managed to break a whole tray of glasses,

which he almost never did. Hannah said he was definitely off his game as she sat at the end of the bar and

nursed a rum and coke. Kevin was apt to agree; he just wanted to go home and climb into bed. Maybe a

good sleep would clear his head, help him think clearly. He kept thinking about the warning that Fenrir

had sent him, because that’s exactly what it was.

A part of him thought about confiding in Roman. Roman was their leader, their alpha. During his time in

the mountains, Kevin had learned much about the werewolf lifestyle, and Roman said the alpha was

responsible for keeping the peace. He settled disputes among the pack members and generally acted as

judge and jury—sometimes even executioner, if a crime warranted it.

But Kevin quickly dismissed the idea. He didn’t need Roman fighting his battles for him. If what Roman

was saying about Kevin being a Pedigree was true, then Kevin was stronger than Fenrir, even if he was

more inexperienced. The last thing he needed was Fenrir knowing that Kevin was afraid of him. If it came

down to a confrontation between himself and Fenrir, Kevin would simply need to man up.

“Sugar, would you mind closing up?” Jolene asked at a quarter to two in the morning. “That drive up to

the Poconos this morning left me plum tuckered out. I need some beauty sleep!”

Kevin grinned, amused by how Jolene could turn her sweet, Southern-fried dialect on and off, depending

on whether she needed a favor or not. Not that he minded, since he owed her one for letting Fenrir deface

her cabin. “No problem. Have a good night!”

“You too!” she said with a wave before exiting the employee’s door in the back.

Kevin finished disinfecting the bar, turning on the security system, and switched off the lights. As his last

act of the night, he gathered up the garbage, carrying two huge bags out with him through the same exit that

Jolene had used. After locking up, he usually dropped off the night’s trash before slipping into his car

parked behind the big blue Dumpster in the back. But as he approached it, he caught a scent on the air

different from the usual scents of rotting garbage and city pollution.

The Dumpster loomed ahead. The smell was coming from it—a disturbing, decaying, meaty scent. Kevin

stopped and looked at it, the bags on the ground at his feet. His eyes were keen, even in the dark. He

glanced right and left, but there was no one there in the parking lot but him. “Shit,” he hissed under his

breath. He dreaded what he would find inside.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the lid on the Dumpster and flung it open.

The crumpled body of a man lay inside, just as he had suspected, a mangled lump on top of yesterday’s

trash. His face was raked with claws, his sightless eyes started up at Kevin, his mouth open in a scream

he never had a chance to utter. His throat had been bitten out, and flies crawled busily over the wound.

Dropping the lid, Kevin stepped back, gagging. That’s when he noticed the blood painting the lid of the

Dumpster. A single word:

TYR.

***

Chapter Fifteen

Kevin stayed well behind the yellow police tape while the Forensics Team removed the body from the

Dumpster and loaded it onto a gurney to be shipped to the coroner’s office. A police officer—the fifth in

just under an hour—approached him with a pen and pad and Kevin sighed with fatigue and pinched the

bridge of his nose.

“Mr. Sullivan, can you give me a detailed account of what happened here?”

Biting back the desire to say something snarky, Kevin started retelling his story about how he came out

here to dump the day’s garbage only to find the dead man in the Dumpster. He stuck to the facts and

avoided any mention of the name scrawled across the Dumpster lid in the dead man’s blood. Before

calling the police, Kevin had taken a washcloth and the bleach solution he used on the bar top to it,

removing any evidence of its existence. He knew if Jolene saw it, she would automatically connect it to

the cabin, and then there would be more questions, more police. They might probe too far, find out too

many things.

Fenrir frightened him. That was true enough. But he knew he had to protect his pack, his family. The

humans couldn’t know anything. It was another of the ordinances of the pack. And it was better this way.

“Does your employer have any enemies that you’re aware of?” the cop said.

“None. Well, her ex. But he wouldn’t do this.” There was no point in covering up the fact that Jolene and

her ex weren’t on the best of terms; everyone knew that already.

The cop nodded and asked for Jolene’s ex-husband’s name. “We’ll check him out, but it’s doubtful

anyone human is involved in this,” the cop said as he scribbled away.

Kevin felt his heart jump into his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you get a look at the guy? Looks like some animal got at him, tore him up pretty bad—maybe

some pit bulls. We’re aware of a few dog rings around here. Of course, that doesn’t explain how he got in

your Dumpster.” The cop examined him like Kevin had something to do with it.

Kevin did his best not to look guilty. Let the cops pursue the dog angle, he thought. If they started chasing

a dog ring, they wouldn’t give a single thought to the murderer being anything but human. “I have no idea

why he’s here,” Kevin sighed wearily, watching the Forensics Team loading the body into the back of the

coroner’s van. He knew he was paper-white because he was still in shock, and he took pains not to do

anything so stupid as to suggest a scenario. He could easily say “Maybe he ran afoul of one of the rings,

owed someone money. There are a lot of bad people in this part of town.” But he knew he’d just come off