Chapter 73

“I would be proud,” Rex finished it off, with good spirits. “I’m proud, damn it.”

Ivan didn’t respond with anything other than a grunt, which I imagine the others knew what it meant, and he took another deep breath. And what was happening with the supposed genocide of werewolves now? I didn’t quite understand what had happened there. Perhaps Illya Valinchenko still had the right to doubt his guilt, or not. After all, they knew him in person, not me; I was missing a lot of things. I guess they would know what to expect. I didn’t dare raise my head, lest Ivan discover that I was still awake and hearing them, but I’m sure there were probably tears in his eyes.

How did it feel to not know what to think of your own father?

I knew that my father was a simple man, a carpenter and furniture designer from Minneapolis, who loved hunting and never missed a Red Sox game. What kind of creature was Ivan’s father? What would he do with me if he found out that I knew so many detai