MADDOX
Sloan looked at me plainly from the other side of the desk. I skimmed over her paperwork, but there wasn’t much written anywhere. I was debating on how to approach this.
“So, uh, did you have a hard time filling anything out?” I asked her, leafing through the papers.
“No,” she said.
“No questions on anything?”
“No,” she repeated.
“Okay, well,” I paused. “I need a little more than a last initial and birth month.”
“Why?” she questioned. She folded her arms over her chest.
“For both of us,” I told her. “It’s hard to protect you and for the pack to welcome you if you refuse to allow us to know you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be welcomed,” she reasoned.
I sighed. “Last name, birth year, and any identifying marks or scars,” I said, handing her the paperwork back. “If you fee
