ah

Marcus asked, checking his reflecti

ess. It hung loosely on my frame; I had lost ten pounds in three d

brick building on the edge of the territory, usually un

ox. It was a limited edition mecha-robot, the ki

?" I asked

ighten a kid's day,"

ge hit me-or rather, the ghost of the scent. My human-

wing low to Marcus. "Alpha!

" Marcus said, his ey

tion shot across t

ad

ree years old, slamme

lent. The matron

d nervously, peeling the child off his

age of the photos in the safe. Dark hair, d

screaming. In the werewolf world, a pup's scent is a mix

ame?" I asked,

. "Oliver. And who ar

an's voice cut

ng the gray uniform of the orphanage staff. She was weari

e hand on the boy's shoulder. "He's just spirited. He loves strong wolves

g up. My legs felt weak. "Marcus

," she

the facilities? I need to sit down f

ay from my scrutiny. He handed the expensive toy to

y, a perfect li

adjacent to the playroom. I couldn't hear whispers anymore, but the w

ce came through, muffled but audible