I Faked My Death, and the Alpha at My Grave Has Lost His Wolf novel · Chapter 16 of 24

Chapter 16: Forty Doors

We started at the first house on Route 3, which belongs to a retired gin hand with a beagle named after a saint.

I knew the beagle.

It bit the mail every day for four years and had never once bitten me.

Anton parked the truck at the end of the drive and took off his hat.

"You can stay in the cab," he said.

"I'll stand on the porch," I said. "That's where I always stood."

The old man came to the screen in his undershirt with the television going behind him.

He looked at Anton, and then at me, and then at my stomach.

"Well," he said. "I heard you were dead."

"Not yet," I said. "I came to tell you in person."

Anton cleared his throat.

"I've come to tell you something before you hear it from Frank on Monday," he said.

His voice was steady, the flat voice that reaches the back of a room.

"I have no wolf. I haven't had one since the gin fire. Frank has told you that I did, and I let him."

"I lied to you for three years," Anton said, "and I'm sorry."

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