I throw questions at him the whole rest of the way to his pack’s compound. I know, as we walk, that I shouldn’t necessarily trust him any more than I should trust the Roswells. And yet… he did save me, didn’t he? And he’s the only one who’s ever tried to tell me the truth.
For well past midnight, the compound is crawling with both people and wolves when we arrive. It’s an interesting array of trailers, cottages, and huts that’s a complete 180 from the estate I’m familiar with, and I find it oddly comforting.
The glares of the people in front of me, though, I find slightly less comforting.
“Dean,” growls a girl about my age who stands with her arms crossed next to two other girls. She’s got long, dark hair like me, but the similarities end there; she’s much tanner than me, with much dark
