"I don't know" from Zevran Ashveil was the most alarming thing I had heard since the recording.
Not because he was dishonest. He was the opposite of dishonest. That was exactly the problem — a man who never said things he didn't mean had just told me he didn't know whether the person who had been running his pack's administration, feeding us intelligence, connecting us to every piece of evidence we needed, was clean.
I sat with that for approximately eight seconds.
Then I got up.
"Call him," I said. "Right now. Before we do anything else. Before Adisa, before Draven, before any of it." I found my clothes. "Call Cael Orin and ask him directly."
Zevran was already on his phone.
It rang four times.
Five.
Voicemail.
I looked at Zevran.
He looked at me.
"He's not answering," he said.
