“Alright,” he said. Then he hesitated. “There was something odd.”
I straightened slightly. “What?”
“We couldn’t trace anything on her mother’s side,” Alistair said. “The maiden name she used doesn’t exist in any of our systems. It looks fabricated.”
I frowned, the pieces shifting again in my head. “Interesting.”
“I’ll send everything over,” he added.
“Do that,” I said. “I want to see it myself.”
“Anything else?”
“No,” I said. “That’s all.”
I ended the call and leaned back against the bench, the phone still in my hand. The world came back in fragments, the distant sound of children laughing, footsteps passing along the path, voices blending into something indistinct.
None of it held my attention.
Lila Morgan.
My mate.
A possible witch who didn’t know what she was. A mother who d
