Page 115 of Wolf Roulette

The head gardener stood in the doorway of my room.

“Marty, can I help you?”

“There’s… well, best come look.”

I followed him outside.

Ah, fuck me.

A blue pickup truck was lodged halfway through a garden bed.Sascha’spickup truck.

Booker inhaled.

Essie the bacon sandwich thief.

I bit back a groan. “It’s another young Luther. Please tell everyone there’s no cause for alarm.”

I crossed the lawn, eyeing the ripped-up grass where she’d lost control of the truck. Essie couldn’t be more than fourteen, and she’d stolen and crashed the pack leader’s vehicle.

I sighed.

She wasn’t by the pickup. I tracked her to the trees behind the crash scene.

You taught her to escape to the trees,Booker said proudly.

That’s when she was stealing food.Perhaps I’d encouraged this.Oops.

“Essie, it’s okay. Come out.” I listened to her sobs and sniffs.

The young teen left her hiding place and approached me barefoot, clutching her tear-streaked cheeks.

I looked her over. “Are you hurt?”

She gulped back another sob and shook her head.

“We better go inside then.” Arm around her shoulders, I led her to the manor. The gardeners looked on, but I guess a teenage Luther crashing a truck was less exciting than a baby Luther waddling onto manor grounds.

I sat her down on a kitchen bench and perched beside her.

The staff quietened, glancing at us.

Essie wiped her face. “I was doing okay until the end.”

My lips trembled.Don’t laugh.Damn, she could smell it anyway. “You drove all the way from pack lands?”

She nodded. “Mr Greyson wasn’t using his truck today. I heard him say so. And I wanted to talk to you about something. I thought I could get back in time.”

“Are you hungry, dear?” Detta cut in.

The Luther’s face brightened. The cook delivered a cinnamon scroll.

Why did I bother? “What did you want to talk with me about, Essie?”

“Everyone treats me like a baby, but I’m not the baby anymore—Axel is. I’m sick of people expecting me to always do the wrong thing. Why should I do the right thing when they don’t think I can?”

Ah…I wasn’t a parent. Not even close. How should I handle this one?

I brushed my hair back. “Have you told your parents you feel this way?”

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