He lifted his hand and let it fall. “He told me that he got rid of your mother.”
Her knees locked, keeping her on her feet. “I don’t understand.”
“He hated her. He hated what she was, and that your father loved her more than he did his own mother. He was still a boy when he—”
“No.” She pressed her hands over her ears. “I don’t believe it.”
“He had no reason to lie to me.” The gentleness of Morgan’s voice pierced her shock as no shout could. “Listen to me. You must be on guard against him. He knows what you are, and he hates you for it, just as he hated your mother. You betrayed him when you came to me. He will not forgive you, Athena. If he killed once, he can kill again.”
“Like you?” She backed toward the entrance. “Do you presume to understand what Niall is because you have committed murder?”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She had sworn not to judge him, not to use his past against him, and she had failed in her promise. “Morgan—”
His eyes were frosted glass. “I should have killed him.”
In that moment she believed that he had done what Cecily claimed, that he could kill a man without compunction or regret. She stood on the lip of the cave, half in light and half in shadow, driven just as surely between woman and wolf, trust and betrayal, love and hate.
There was no certainty, no peace. The two men she loved most had become deadly strangers. Doubt ate at her like a cancer. Her familiar world had done more than change; it had shattered. She had only the smallest hope of putting it back together again. And she must do it alone. For Morgan’s sake, for Niall’s… and because she had no right to happiness she had not earned.
“I am going,” she said. “I’m going to find my brother and make him tell me the truth.” She stepped into harsh noon light, and Morgan tensed to follow. “No. Don’t come after me. You owe me nothing.” She closed her eyes to the sight of his beloved face. “You are free.”
He laughed wretchedly. “Don’t trust him. Athena—”
She Changed and was ready when he followed. She turned on him, snapping and snarling, until he had to retreat or defend himself. But he did not Change. He knelt in the snow, hands on his thighs, and watched her go.
Phantom tears gathered behind her wolf’s eyes. It must be this way. Niall is still my brother. You would destroy us both if you killed for my sake. And I am not strong enough, my love. Not strong enough to believe in you.
Athena lost herself in the wolf and ran, with all her strength, until she knew nothing but the flex of muscle and the rush of wind through her fur. When she reached the ranch she traced a wide circle around the buildings and approached from the rear of the house, a shadow all but invisible to human eyes. At the door she Changed, slipped into the house, and dashed up the stairs to her room. There she hastily donned a calico skirt and shirtwaist, barely enough to cover her nakedness.
Voices echoed downstairs, but none of them was Niall’s. She took the stairs two at a time and confronted a pair of startled troupers, men she recognized as Harry’s star aerialists.
“Where is Mr. Munroe?” she demanded.
They exchanged glances. “Miss Athena?” one of them said. “He left with Caitlin, just after dawn.”
She had no time to consider the implications of Caitlin’s involvement. “Where did they go?”
“I heard it was to look for you in Denver,” the other man said. “Harry and Ulysses left last night. They said you might be in trouble.” He paused. “Can we help, Miss Athena?”
She shook her head and tried to clear her mind. Did Harry and Ulysses know that Niall had tried to kill Morgan? Was that why they had gone to Denver? Why had Niall taken Caitlin, when surely he must believe that Morgan was dead and he was returning to face his sister’s anguish? Caitlin would hate him just as much for what he had done.