Sadie Hart by Cry Sanctuary Page A

really was. Not an ordinary
man.
    A monster.
     

 
     
    Chapter Nine
    Caine caught
Miranda Rawson’s trembling hands in his, squeezing gently to give
Claire’s mother a chance to catch her breath. More people than just
the pack had shown up for Claire’s funeral, people none of them had
even recognized, all coming to pay their respects. “You okay?”
    “Feel like I’m about to shatter.” She
squeezed her quivering lips into a thin line, and Caine stepped
forward, his gaze automatically stalking the crowd for Mrs.
Rawson’s husband. There he was with their other daughter, the
sixteen-year-old Rawson girl sobbing against her father’s shoulder.
The old man looked about ready to break himself.
    With a soft sigh, Caine wrapped an arm around
the woman and tugged her close, pinning her hands to his chest.
“It’s okay to break,” he whispered and felt her shoulders stiffen,
still trying to fight. He leaned his chin against the top of her
head. “No one will judge you for it.”
    “I still can’t...” Her breath hitched in her
chest, locked on a sob, but she didn’t have to finish. She’d been
repeating it for the past two days, over and over again. I still
can’t believe she’s dead.
    He wondered when she’d get around to saying:
I still can’t believe you failed. Pain pounded in his head, a
throbbing between his eyes that Caine had yet to shake. Most of the
pack was here, shaken, their nerves on edge with grief and the
sheer number of people present. Trey was making the rounds, doing
his best to keep fur under skin, hoping they’d all make it through
the day without a shift.
    They were close, too. All they had to do was
make it through the speeches and the final farewells. He blew out a
long, steady sigh, trying to calm the woman in his arms. “I’m
sorry,” meaning it with all his heart, even if the words were
beginning to sound more habitual to him than mournful.
    Caine started to move towards the crowd,
ushering Mrs. Rawson with him, when he saw a familiar black-haired
beauty, her black dress hanging nearly to her knees, nowhere near
long enough to keep his eyes from tracking up those long legs.
Holly Lawrence didn’t come alone, either.
    He recognized her brother at her side, the
lioness-turned-Hound flanking them. The assortment of people behind
them were probably the rest of the Hound pack. He’d wondered if
Enforcement would make an appearance today, heard the mutterings
from his own pack about how they didn’t even care that shifters
were dying. Once, he’d have probably agreed with them, but nothing
about Holly could make him believe that she didn’t care.
    Approaching the procession now, everything on
her face seemed to scream it. “Miranda,” he said softly and she
looked up, handkerchief in hand, then spotted the incoming Hounds.
She didn’t recognize them.
    “More people I don’t know? Why can’t they
just leave us be today?”
    “They’re the Hounds who worked your
daughter’s case.”
    As if she could hear him, Holly’s head jerked
his way, those gunmetal gray eyes bonding instantly with his. With
one glance, Holly could deliver a physical blow to his gut. This
time out of sorrow. Pain. Her gaze flicked to the woman in his
arms, and he saw her face soften. She turned, said something to her
brother and the red-haired woman beside him, and then headed their
way.
    Miranda gave a small gasp. “I don’t know if I
want to speak to them.”
    “Her name is Holly Lawrence.” Miranda looked
at him, realization glittering in her eyes along with the tears,
and he nodded. “The one who got away.”
    He squeezed her hands gently in his. “She
tried.”
    Just like that, Claire’s mother sagged
against him, exhaustion and grief winning out. She broke into a
soft sob, a tear trailing down over her cheek, leaving a streak in
the makeup. Holly paused still a few feet away, pain contorting her
face. Her red lips parted, and Caine found himself fighting the
urge to go to her, to wrap her