Chapter 4: Wolf

They came for me at sunrise.

I had not slept.

I sat on the porch steps in my father's flannel shirt, the torn funeral dress balled in my fist.

I watched the black circle on the lawn go grey as the light came up.

The guards had said nothing all night.

Now one of them pointed down the drive.

Nolan was walking up it with thirty wolves at his back.

The Beta came a step behind him.

Beside the Beta walked a heavy, red-bearded man with a scar on his neck, the one the pack called the enforcer.

I stood up.

Nolan stopped at the edge of the burned grass.

"Lilia."

"You're early."

"A sentry reported a stranger's scent at this house in the night."

He lifted his chin toward the study window.

"A Westpoint scent. Pine, iron, and sweat."

My stomach dropped.

Thirty people were listening.

"My father's house smells of a lot of people," I said.

"It smells of the men who killed him."

"Tell me where you were last night."

"In this house, like your law told me to be."

"With whom?"

"Alone."

"She's lying," said the enforcer.

"I can smell him on her from here."

A ripple went through the wolves.

Nolan shut his eyes for a moment, a man in pain.

"I wanted to believe the best of you," he said.

"You walked into the funeral with that dragon's temper and the Westpoint Alpha's hands around your wrists. Now this."

He opened his eyes again, and they were wet.

He could cry on command, I remembered.

He had cried just like that the night he left me.

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