Read Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) for Free Online

streaking the dirt. ―That shifter detective in Seattle—Tynan O‘Connolly—just called. Like you asked, he‘d watched for Lachlan in Seattle. He said…‖ His voice broke. ―There was a young man‘s body in the morgue.‖
    Alec raised an eyebrow at Calum, silently requesting permission to continue. Calum nodded.
    ―Go on, Joe,‖ Alec prompted, squeezing his shoulder.
    Thorson shook his head like a confused animal. ―The cops haven‘t identified him, but they‘re trying, passing out pictures. Tynan emailed me one. It‘s my Lachlan.‖ His words dropped like stones into the quiet room.
    ―Did you go to the morgue in Seattle?‖ Alec asked quietly despite the unease fingering the back of his neck. An autopsy wouldn‘t show the magic that created a shifter, but carelessness would. If Thorson‘s actions exposed the shifters, he‘d be declared an enemy of the Daonain…and as a cahir, Alec would have to kill him.
    ―I never went near the station.‖
    Relief loosened Alec‘s grip, and he pulled in a hard breath. ―By the God, I‘m sorry, Joe.
    Sorry for Lachlan, sorry for you, that you can never—‖
    ―Never put claim to him or bury him. I know, dammit.‖ Thorson stared at the floor.
    Calum said, ―I‘ll call Tynan for more information, but for now—has he discovered how Lachlan died?‖
    Thorson‘s head snapped up, his eyes burning with fury. Against his fingertips, Alec felt the tingle of imminent trawsfur. He shook the old man‘s arm. ―Control yourself. We need answers, not claws.‖
    When Thorson growled, Alec tensed, preparing to fight a berserk cougar.
    After a moment, Thorson sucked in a breath, and the tingling receded, disappeared. As the wildness left his body, his eyes showed his shame. The old guy probably hadn‘t lost control like that since he was a cub. ―Sorry, my friend,‖ he said softly.
    ―It‘s all right,‖ Alec answered, equally softly. ―Tell us what you know.‖
    Sorrow deepened the lines in Joe‘s face, and he had to clear his throat. ―He looked starved.
    Ribs showing. Tynan said he was jaundiced from liver shutdown.‖
    ―Metal-induced?‖ Alec asked.
    ―Yes.‖ The man‘s fingers curled, shaping claws.
    Alec shared the need to slash and rend. The pain of that kind of death… Instead, he squeezed the tight shoulder under his hand. ―Stay with me here, Joe.‖
    A heavy breath. ―He had burn marks, cuts, bruises. He‘d been beaten. Tortured. Some of the cuts were in square patterns on his skin.‖
    ―Wire cage,‖ Calum growled. His pupils had turned black with a Cosantir‘s rage. ―That would explain the liver failure, too.‖
    ―They kept my boy in a cage!‖ The words burst from Thorson. ―They tortured him, starved him.‖ He moaned, ―A cage, Cosantir, a cage …‖
    ―They will pay,‖ Calum said quietly. ―Was Lachlan penned up when they found him?‖
    Thorson shuddered, staring at the floor, and Alec knew the man couldn‘t bear much more.
    He needed the forest, to feel the trees and grass and scent of freedom, to have the Mother‘s love around him. ―Tynan thinks Lachlan escaped,‖ Joe said. ―But too late. A man found my boy and a female on his doorstep and took them in, then called 911.‖
    ―Did—‖
    ―When the police and ambulance arrived, Lachlan was dead. The female ran out through the back door.‖
    ―Hell,‖ Alec muttered.
    Finally, Thorson looked up at their leader. The old man had known Calum and Alec since they were boys sneaking reads of comic books in his store, but he showed no memory of that now. As close as he was to changing, he probably only saw the black eyes and the aura of power.
    ―Cosantir, please. I need—‖
    ―We can manage here, Joe,‖ Calum said. ―Purge your grief on the mountain. Alec, go with.‖
    As Thorson stumbled toward the exit, hands reached out to him—carefully—to stroke in shared sorrow and friendship.
    Alec led him into the cool, silent cave like a child. Without speaking, they