Chapter 65. Mark of the Beast

Werewolves. Werewolves. Werewolves. The word repeated in my head over and over again.

“For fuck’s sake,” Robert said, directing his curse toward the ceiling.

Mitchell never took his eyes off me. “Yes, Dorothy, I said werewolves. As in the pack of werewolves you’ve lived with for practically your whole life. The fucking monsters who stole you from me.”

He gripped my knee harder. “Now is not the time to pretend you don’t know anything. Please. These men can help you but you have to prove to them you’re on our side first.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied. “I don’t understand any of this. Are you saying Ace is a-a werewolf?”

My mind raced, thinking over all the signs. The growling, the teeth-baring, the biting and licking. The fucking huge ass wolf in Ace’s backyard. Everyone calling him Alpha, for god’s sake.

My god. How could I have missed something this big?

I didn’t have time to process that revelation.

“Dorothy, please.” Mitche