The knock came just as Christina pulled the last tray of muffins from the oven.
“Can you get that?” she called, nudging the door closed with her hip as she adjusted a hot mitt. “I’m kind of mid-muffin crisis.”
Mr. Reed was already moving. “Yeah, I got it.”
He opened the door and stepped aside, letting Alpha Emory and Connor in without ceremony.
“Morning,” he said with a nod, calm and unsurprised.
Christina peeked out from the kitchen. “Oh hey, Connor! You here to supervise muffin quality control?”
Connor gave her a quick grin, but Emory didn’t waste time.
“I’ve spoken with the neighboring alphas,” he said, voice cool and composed. “No one has seen or heard anything unusual. Nothing to go on.”
Mr. Reed’s jaw tightened. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be,” Emory
