Chapter 12

Dominic

My father had a rule about questions: never ask one you don’t already know the answer to. Make them lie to your face first. Then you’ll know exactly what they’re hiding.

I have Jory bring her to my office after the lunch dishes are done.

She knocks. Nobody knocks on this door. They walk in, or they yell through it. She knocks twice, softly, and doesn’t open it until I let her in. Then she sits on the very edge of the chair across from my desk, back straight, hands folded in her lap, as if someone once taught her exactly how and checked.

She smells of dish soap and onions, and under that, the smoke and crushed leaves she hides behind. Under that, almost nothing. My wolf doesn’t like that almost-nothing. It paces at the back of my skull like something’s been taken from it.

“Wha