Tsundere Wife And Kawaii Kid Chapter 64

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Chapter 64. Shot
Ethan
How pathetic is it that I’ve only been away from Jane a few hours, but I already miss her? It didn’t help that the entire way
through the kids’ movie, I had nothing but time to think about my lovely mate. Strange as it seems, I just didn’t find a bunch
of animated woodland animals frolicking through a silly adventure as compelling as Jane. Still the kids enjoyed it, and my heart
swelled in my chest the moment that Ryder crawled
into my lap for no other reason than that he wanted to be close to me while we watched.
Now, as we return to the penthouse, I can’t wait to watch them act out the story for their mother. They’re currently debating the
best part of the film, but the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end the closer we draw to the apartment building. As we
round the corner, I see a blinding array of flashing lights, and police cars flooding the street in front of the entrance.
My first thought is of Jane, and before I can think twice, 1 scoop two pups up in each arm and race up to the first officer I see.
“What happened?”
The woman pales the moment she sees me, “Alpha, I’m so sorry...” She begins, clearly unsure of how to voice her next words.
“Just tell me.” I demand, feeling the pups anxious energy increase as my own spirals out of control.
“It’s your mother.” The officer utters as gently as she can. She
glances at the children nervously, “she’s gone, sir.”
Too many feelings bombard me at once. I’m both relieved it’s not my mate, and incapable of processing the shock of hearing my
mother is dead. “...” staring at the woman helplessly, I look down at the children in my arms, whose little faces are turned up at
me in confusion. “Is there someone who can take care of them for a little while?”
Five minutes later I’m getting off the elevator, and immediately set eyes on Jane talking to a detective in the hallway. Her head
turns my way the moment I step off, and then she’s rushing towards me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she looks a bit shell-
shocked. “Ethan don’t, you don’t want to go in there.”
“What happened?” I reply, stroking her cheek, “are you okay?”“I just came home and found her.’ Jane murmured, her voice sounding distant. “Please, I’m telling you, you don’t want to see her
that way.”
“I have to.” I tell her, setting her aside carefully. “You should go downstairs to the pups.”
“No.” Jane argues, taking hold of my hand. “If you’re going to do this, I’m going with you.”
Together we walk down the hallway, and though I’ve trekked this stretch of flooring a hundred times before, tonight it seems ten
kilometers long. It takes forever for us to finally reach the doorway, and the scent of blood is so heavy in the
air that it clogs all my other senses.
When we finally reach the door, I feel like I’m walking through
12 Wochen a dream – a nightmare to be more exact. My mother is lying in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by evidence
markers and a pool of crimson. Her eyes are wide and unseeing, and where her throat is supposed to be, there is only a gaping
scarlet hole of torn muscle and tissue.
I lead Jane forward, standing over my mother’s prone body with blood rushing in my ears. None of this seems real. The only
thing I can think is that I want to close her eyes. I start to bend down to do so, but Jane stops me. “We can’t touch her.” She
cautions, and for the first time I notice that her shoes are bloody on the soles. She must have walked close enough to confirm
Mom was gone before retreating and calling the authorities.
Rising back up, I nod and turn to the investigator behind us. “What do we know?”
“We don’t have to talk about that right now.” Jane interrupts before he can answer, her small hand rubbing my shoulders.
“Yes we do.” I insist. I can’t deal with feelings right now. “Someone killed her in my own home, that means we might all be at
risk.”
“Well there was no forced entry, and no signs of a major struggle, which suggests it was probably someone she knew.” The
investigator explains. “As you can see her throat was ripped out, but from the looks of it, it was a small paw – so probably a
woman.”
“Is there any evidence that Eve has been here?” | demand instantly.
“No sir, and frankly, we don’t know what her motive would be Follow current on novel-online.com

11 288 Vouches for attacking your mother. They got on well didn’t they?” The man inquires.
“They did, but I warned you less than a week ago that this would happen if she wasn’t caught!” I remind him, feeling my temper
begin to slip.
“Sir we have no reason -”
“Okay!” Jane interrupts. “Enough. This is not the time. This has all just happened, you haven’t had time to investigate anything,”
she reminded the investigator pointedly. “And you,” she says, turning to me, “are in shock.”
“I am not.” | object. “I simply want to find the person responsible, and every moment counts.”
“I said enough.” Jane repeats in her best Mom voice, before leading me away. “Look at me Ethan.” Raising my eyes to her
reluctantly, I see only an outpouring of compassion. “I’m so sorry. I know how much your mother meant to you, and I can only
imagine how difficult it is to process all this. The next few days are going to be hard enough to get through without you getting in
trouble for attacking that idiot investigator.”
Nodding, I agree and drag a hand through my hair. “I guess... I guess we should pack some bags for us and the pups and find
someplace to stay tonight. I presume you can go back to Linda’s for a night or two?” I suggest, “and I’ll get a hotel.”
To my surprise Jane snorts. “If you think we’re leaving you on your own tonight, you are out of your mind.”
“Jane, I’m okay, honestly.” I protest.
1 288 Voucher “We’ll get a hotel together, and tomorrow I’ll help you make arrangements.” She corrects me, “Now go pack a
bag.”
A few hours later I wake to hear Jane tossing and turning in her bed, moaning in her sleep and crying softly. Rising from my
unfamiliar hotel bed, I cross the suite and push open the door to her bedroom, instantly seeing her struggling in the tangles of
her bedsheets – as if she’s fighting them.
Moving to her side, I shake her awake as gently as I can. “Wake up Janey, it’s only a dream.”
She thrashes around for a few moments more before opening her stunning green eyes. Her wolf glows bright behind them, her
panting breath and racing heart gradually slowly as she returns to the present. “It was only a dream.” | repeat, sitting beside her.
Blinking tears out of her eyes, she scrubs a hand over her face. “I can’t stop seeing her.” She admits in a small voice.. Follow current on storynovel.net

I understand better than I can admit, my own dreams were filled with images of my mothers brutalized body, but when I think
about it I still feel nothing but a bottomless void – a gaping black hole in my chest. The only feeling I can muster is sympathy for
my mate, sympathy I should have felt earlier if I hadn’t been so distracted by the shock of losing my mother.
“Poor baby, I didn’t even think about how upsetting it must have been for you to find her that way.” I purr, wrapping my
arms around her.
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.” She sniffles. “I’m
supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”
Sliding under the covers beside her, I encourage her to lie down with me. “The only thing I can focus on right now is dealing with
the threat against our family.”
“Ethan she was your mother.” Jane murmurs, “This time is your chance to say goodbye to her. You can’t waste it on denial and
anger.”
“I can’t help it.” I confess, “Every time I think about it, it just doesn’t seem real.”
The soft pitter patter of tiny feet interrupts us, and before ! know it four sets of bright eyes are glowing on either side of us.
“Daddy, we went to your room but you weren’t there.” Paisley whispers loudly.
They’re already climbing into bed with us, not bothering to wait for permission. “Why were you looking for me, angel?” | ask, even
as their little bodies begin forcing their way between Jane and I, until I’m cushioned by puppies on all sides.
“Cuz Mommy always lets us sleep with her when we’re sad.” – Parker answers, from somewhere around my elbow, “And you
seem sad.”
“Thank you my loves.” Jane praises them, cuddling Riley to her chest, “This is exactly what he needs.” I can hear the second
part of her sentence clear as day in my head, though she didn’ t have to say it, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Jane
Explaining death to four years olds is almost as difficult as watching Ethan muddle through the next few days in a complete fog,
appearing more like a zombie than the man | know so well. Every time I tell the pups that Petra is gone and won’t be comingback, the message only seems to sink in for a few hours. Soon enough they’re asking me when they’re going to see Petra again,
and I have to try to explain the concept of permanence to four precious beings who simply cannot understand it.
Still, watching Ethan is harder. We got through all the planning and preparations for a massive state funeral with great
exhaustion and stress, but little emotion on his part. I keep waiting for him to break, to come out of shock and grieve the way he
needs to so desperately. It hasn’t happened yet, and I merely pray that he will find the spark he needs before the funeral is over
this afternoon.
Most of the day is a series of overly formal ceremonies and traditions, and I’m simply proud that the pups get through hours of
being on their feet in stuffy clothing without a tantrum. It’s not until we’re traveling from the graveyard to the memorial service that
they finally reach a breaking point, and I call in Linda for some emergency babysitting. I plan on staying with Ethan until the last
mourner leaves the service, but I’m on my way back from handing the kids over to my friend when the investigator from the crime
scene intercepts me.
It’s the same man who was at the hospital after the attack on
Paisley, and I greet him as warmly as I can, assuming he’s here to wish the family his condolences. “Ms. Carrington, can speak
to you for a moment?” He asks, pulling me aside.
“Of course.” I agree, “do you need me to make another statement?”
“Actually I have some questions for you.” He answers, more gruffly than I would have expected. “Can you do me a favor and
refresh me on what your relationship is with the Alpha?”
Something inside me tells me that this isn’t just another interview, and suddenly I’m painfully aware that I did commit a few very
real crimes when I faked my death and forged a new identity for myself. “Well,” I say, taking a deep breath. “We used to be in a
relationship and now share our pups. I’m living with him for the next few months as part of a... I guess you could call it a custody
arrangement.”
“And Elise Carrington is your legal name?” The detective presses, “because forgive me for saying so, but you bear a striking
resemblance to the Alpha’s ex-wife – his deceased ex-wife.”
Staring at the investigator long and hard, I decide to simply face this head on. “Look, how much trouble am I in here? Ethan and I
split on very unfortunate terms and I did what I felt was necessary to protect myself.”“I’m a homicide investigator.” He answers simply, pulling out a notebook and pen. “I don’t care about forged papers and
misdemeanors, what I do care about is whether or not you had a motive to kill Mrs. Blackwell.”
“Excuse me?” | gape. “... are you saying I’m a suspect?”
“Well, you were the last one to see her alive -”
12:Voucher
“Actually I think you’ll find her killer was the last one to see her alive.” I correct him.
“The last person whom we are aware of, who saw her alive.” He amended, “and you found her body and called in the crime.”
“Which I would not have done if I was guilty of it.” I grit out.
“But you do have a history of aggression towards the deceased, do you not?” He presses. “Mrs. Blackwell and Eve Mechante
filed assault charges against Jane Blackwell – and that is you, is it not?”
“That was more than 6 years ago, and those charges were dropped.” I remind him.
“I understand that, ma’am.” He concedes, “but it stands to a history of conflict with the victim. Can you please recount what
happened on that occasion for me?”
“You know I’m starting to think I need to have a lawyer for this conversation.” | state tightly, already wondering if it’s bad form to
call in two favors to Linda in one day.
“Why, do you have something to hide?” The investigator questions, eyeing me very sharply now.
“No, but I do have the right to protect myself from investigative negligence.” I snap. “Why have to zeroed in on me for this? Ethan
told you last night that Eve was the one responsible for this.”
“Look Ms. Blackwell, Ms. Carrington – whatever name you
won’t to go by today, it’s my job to explore all possibilities here. Now like it or not, this is the way it is: the moment your lawyer
comes in here, I cease being able to help you. As long as it’s just you and me talking, you can give me the information I need to
eliminate you as a suspect, but | guarantee your lawyer’s going to shut down our conversation like that.” He shares, snapping his
fingers.“So I’m just going to tell you how it looks from my end.” The increasingly infuriating detective continues. “I’ve got a woman with a
known history of violence towards the deceased. You broke the law to get away from the Blackwell family and are now in some
sort of custody battle with the victim’s son. We’ ve got Mrs. Blackwell”s blood all over your clothes, which we found in a trash bag
in the building’s trash chute late last night, in addition to the fact that you “found the body.” And all this is happening while you
have a very convenient scapegoat on the loose, with whom you also have a negative history, but who never had any conflicts
with the victim.”
“What was that about my clothes?” I repeat, struggling to wrap my brain around this detail.
“Oh yes, we found the dress you were wearing last night, covered in blood, in the trash chute.” He announces, offering me a
toothy grin.
“What makes you think it’s my dress?” | demand.
“Because it has your name stitched into the dry cleaning tag.” He explains.
I don’t wait for any more information. “This interview is over. If you want to speak to me again, my lawyer is going to be present.”
ZAB Vouches
“That’s fine Ms. Blackwell.” He smirks, “by all means, let’s do this the hard way.”
Storming back into the funeral home, my head begins to spin. It doesn’t take an idiot to see that Eve could have pulled any one
of my dresses from my closet to plant this so-called evidence, but suddenly it’s becoming a lot clearer what her motive for killing
Petra was: the bitch wants to pin it on me so that I’ll be out of the way and she can have Ethan for herself.
I charge back inside to look for Ethan and tell him what just happened, but when I get to the main parlor, I don’t see him
anywhere. I follow his scent into the back of the house, and when I catch sight of him, I realize I can’t put this on his shoulders
too – at least not now.
He’s seated alone on a bench just outside the back door, slumped over with his head in his hands. Approaching warily, I rest a
hand on his shoulder, “Ethan?”
He looks up at me with tears streaming down his rugged cheeks, “She’s gone.” He growls, “She’s really gone.”
Without thinking about it for a moment, I move between his legs and wrap my arms around his burly shoulders, letting him press
his face into my breast as his powerful arms come around my body. “I know.” | croon, feeling my own emotions welling up inconcert with him. “I know, I’m so sorry.”
The only time I’ve seen Ethan shed a tear was the night of Paisleys’s surgery, but he spent most of that night comforting me. It
wasn’t like this. He didn’t even cry at his father’s funeral. He’s always been so stoic and unshakable, like a mountain. But now
he’s sobbing into my dress, and I feel helpless to take away his pain. I can only hold him as he pours out his anguish.
And to think, a few nights ago. I was telling Eric we needed things to calm down. It seems like every day I stay in this city sends
my family spiraling closer to disaster, but I can’t possibly cut the trip short now. Ethan shouldn’t have to bear this tragedy alone.
Whatever happened between us in the past – or even between Petra and I – losing your mother is one of the hardest times in
anyone’s life. I may not be able to be his wife again, but I can be a friend.
Besides, the way things are going right now, there’s a good chance I won’t be physically able to leave anyway. After all, murder
suspects generally aren’t allowed to leave the territory.