Page 24 of Deadly Wolf Bite

Neither does she.

“She’s very sweet,” I say because it’s the only response that isn’t another lie.

“She’s had it pretty rough,” he says, his gaze darkening. I suspect that’s putting it mildly considering she’s married to Vincenzo. My heart aches for what that must be like.

“The stuff she said about my mom,” I can’t help but ask, “do you think it’s true?”

“My mother wouldn’t lie to you.” He takes a step closer to me, and I tense. If he tries to touch me, I’m not sure I can keep my armor up. “I promised to help you find your wolf. And I think that starts with learning more about your parents.”

I perk up at that. “You’re going to help me?”

“We had a deal, remember? You have dinner with me in exchange for me helping you.”

“Right.”

It was supposed to be a different dinner. A private one. But he doesn’t point out that I broke that deal when I didn’t show up last night.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“If your parents decided to leave, they would’ve had a plan.”

I’ve been thinking the same thing. “Someone on the outside.”

He nods. “If we could track that person down, they might be able to tell us what happened to your wolf.”

“That was two decades ago. How in the world would we find them?”

“We can start with the car they were found in,” he says, and I swallow hard, remembering how it felt when I learned that the story I’d been told my whole life was a lie. Social Services said it was a car accident, but when I was eighteen, I found a single scrawled note in my social worker’s personal file on me that revealed they’d both died from a gunshot wound to the chest.

“The police report had a license plate,” I say.

He nods. “There’s no guarantee the car wasn’t stolen, but I’m having Dutch look into it.” He frowns, which dampens my hope.

“What is it?” I ask nervously.

“Just something my father said,” he says distractedly. His phone rings, cutting off any further questions. He checks it and scowls. “Speak of the devil. Hello?”

He listens for a moment, and I watch his expression for some clue about what Vincenzo might be saying to him. But Grey’s darkening mood is no different than any other encounter he’s had with the alpha so far.

A moment later, he holds the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I hesitate but then realize refusing will only force him to come here in person.

I take the phone. “Hello?”

“You can’t feel your wolf at all?”

I look at Grey, bewildered, but he just shrugs. “Excuse me?”

“Your wolf,” he says, impatience lacing the words. “You can’t feel it even a little bit?”

“No.”

“And you had no idea about being a shifter before coming here?”

“No. Why?”

“Do you ever get sick?”

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