<b>Chapter </b><b>67 </b>


    <b>Adrian’s </b><b>POV </b>


    “They left after the reception, Jessie said, her smile faltering slightly. “At least, I think they did. Everything got a little fuzzy after I fell: She gestured <b>to </b>her bandaged forehead. “Jake and I ended up here, and I assumed everyone else went home.”


    “You fell from the stage?” I prompted, recalling the janitor’s exnation.


    “Yeah, Jessie nodded, then winced at the movement. One minute I was dancing with Jake, the next–boom! Face–nt city. Sheughed, though the <b>wound </b>seemed hollow. “Jake tried to catch me but ended up falling too. He’s got a broken nose and a sprained wrist, but they’re keeping him for observation because of a concussion.”


    Her story matched the janitor’s, yet something didn’t feel right. I studied her face carefully, noting how her eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine, how her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her nket.


    “Didn’t Skyee to the hospital to check on you?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound like her.”


    Jessie frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “1… I’m not sure. Yesterday’s kind of a blur. I probably had way too much champagne. She rubbed <b>her </b>temples as if trying to massage away confusion. “I don’t really remember when exactly they left.”


    Ryder stepped forward, cing the bouquet on her bedside table. “<b>Try </b>to think back. Was there anymotion at the wedding? <b>Any </b>strangers or unexpected guests?”


    Jessie stared at the flowers, then back at us, her expression growing increasingly ufortable. “I… I don’t think so. Just wedding stuff, you know<b>? </b>Music<b>, </b>dancing, cake…” Her voice trailed off, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m <b>sorry</b><b>, </b>my head’s still killing me. The doctor said memory gaps are normal with concussions.<b>” </b>


    I exchanged a nce with Ryder. Either <b>Jessie </b>was hiding something, or something had interfered with her memory. Neither option boded well for finding Skye and Nadia.


    “Thank you for your time,” I said, my <b>voice </b>tighter than I intended. “We hope <b>you </b>recover quickly.”


    “Thank you for <b>your </b>time,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. “We hope you recover quickly.”


    As we left the hospital room, Ryder shook his head. “That was weird. It’s <b>like </b>she’s describing apletely different wedding than the one in those photos Skye sent.


    “Let’s try The Watering Hole,” I decided, already striding toward the exit. “If anyone knows Skye’s movements in this town, it would be her former b


    When we arrived at the bar<b>, </b>the lights were off and a <b>“</b>CLOSED” sign hung in the window. The establishment wouldn’t open for another <b>few </b>hours<b>, </b>but I couldn’t afford to wait. I circled around to the back, Ryder following closely.


    “We could break in, Ryder suggested, eyeing a partially open window. “Just to look around.”


    Just as I was considering the <b>merits </b>of his suggestion<b>, </b><b>the </b>distinctive metallic click of a shotgun being cocked froze us in ce.


    “You boys better have a damn good reason for sniffing around my <b>back </b>door,” <b>a </b>gravelly <b>voice </b>called out.


    I turned slowly, hands raised in a non–threatening gesture, to find an elderly man training a shotgun on us. His weathered face was set in grim determination, though his stance betrayed a slight tremor age catching up with once<b>–</b>steady hands.


    –


    Recognition shed in his rheumy eyes. “Wait a minute. You’re that fe who came looking for <b>Skye </bst year, Adrian, right?”


    “Buck, I acknowledged, lowering my hands slightly. “I’m looking for Skye again. She was here yesterday for her friend’s wedding, but now I can’t reach her<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    The old man lowered his shotgun<b>, </b>concern recing suspicion. “Skye was here<b>? </b><b>At </b>Jessie’s wedding?”


    <b>“</b><b>You </b>didn’t see her?” Ryder asked incredulously.


    Buck shook his head, leaning the shotgun against the wall before fishing a set of keys from his pocket. ‘Let’s talk inside.


    <b>The </b>interior of The Watering Hole smelled of stale beer and pine–scented cleaner. Buck flipped on the lights and gestured for us to take seats at the ber while he shuffled behind it.


    “Coffee?” he offered, already reaching for a pot.


    “No time, I declined. ‘Skye and another woman from our…munity were at Jessie’s wedding yesterday. They’ve gone missing, and no one seems to remember when they left or where they went.”<fn05e7> This content belongs to find?novel</fn05e7>


    Buck’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “Missing? That don’t sound right. Skye’s a careful girl. He poured himself a mug of coffee, his hands shaking slightly. “Should we call the police?”


    “Not yet,” I said quickly. “We just want to retrace their steps first.”


    “You sure? Buck looked skeptical. “If she’s really missing-


    ‘I’m sure, I cut him off more sharply than intended. Thest thing we needed was human police involved in what was increasingly looking like werewolf business<b>. </b>


    Something wasn’t adding up. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to <b>the </b>photos Skye had sent me.


    “Buck, you said you weren’t at the wedding?” I showed him the screen, zooming in on one of the reception photos.


    There in the background, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, was Buck himself, smiling as he watched the dancers.


    The color drained from Buck’s weathered face<b>. </b>“That’s… that’s impossible.” He took the phone with trembling hands, staring at the image in disbelief. “I swear on my life, I wasn’t there. My hip was killing me yesterday–could barely make it from my bed to the bathroom, let alone a wedding.”


    He looked up at me, genuine confusion and fear in his eyes. <b>“</b>Am I losing my mind? Did I drink so much I don’t remember being there?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, no. I ain’t had a drop since my doctor put me on those new pills three weeks ago.”


    Buck stared at the photo for a long moment, then looked back at me. “Something ain’t right here. This whole wedding business is strange. Jessie called metest night, all confused, asking if I’d driven her and Jake to the hospital. When I told her I wasn’t at the wedding at all, she couldn’t remember who took them.”


    “That’s odd,” Ryder said, leaning forward. “The bride can’t remember who drove her to the hospital after her own wedding?”


    “Exactly,” Buck nodded. “Doctor might say it’s the concussion, but Jessie’s never been the clumsy type, despite what she might say now. Girl’s got the bnce of a cat. Been slinging trays of drinks for years without dropping a single ss.” <b>He </b>tapped his temple. “And she ain’t forgetful neither.”


    “And now we have proof you actually were there,” I said, pointing to the photo, “despite having no memory of attending.”


    My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, noting that it was an unknown number. “Excuse me,” I murmured, stepping away from the bar to answer.


    Alpha Adrian,” a smooth, familiar voice greeted me. “I was beginning to think you’d never answer.”