Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“My dad said it was too much responsibility. He left as soon as he was old enough.” Matti’s throat bobbed. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but it never felt like home when I lived there, and I like the city. There’s a small town close by, and there are a lot of people like us who live in it, but....” He shrugged. “The residents like their privacy and don’t want strangers constantly trying to move in and mess up their balance.”
“So they aren’t friendly,” Sienna muttered, casting me another look.
“Friendly-ish.”
I laughed. “You’re blowing this so bad I think you might be talking me out of it, and it was my idea to start with.”
“I swear….” Matti groaned but collected himself. “The point is: it’s secluded, and Nina and Duncan would be surrounded by people who are more likely to understand them than anywhere else would. It’s as safe as you can get because everyone’s objective is to live in peace, in secret. It’s on a big piece of land.” Matti paused and blew out a breath. “You can run until you get tired and still be well within the perimeter. It would give Duncan space to stretch his legs and grow up. I wouldn’t have been happy anywhere back then, but it was good for me while I was there.”
I’d kind of blocked that period of time out in my memories: when he’d left after his mom had passed away. His cousin, Henri, had picked him up one day while I’d been in class, and he’d been gone—his room cleaned out, the house basically abandoned—by the time I’d gotten home. It had been IMs that kept us in touch afterward, where he’d vaguely explained that his cousin had taken guardianship of him, and he was going to live in Colorado from then on.
It had been devastating. First his dad in a terrible car accident, then his mom, and finally him. Each loss had been sudden and unexpected.
I’d only heard from Matti once a month after that and never details about where exactly he was, no matter how much I asked. There had only been that one conversation where he’d revealed more than he should have. And in the years afterward, Matti had been real cagey about talking about that time. I’d never brought it up. If he’d wanted to talk about it, he could have.
He hadn’t.
“The majority of the residents have Amarok or iron wolf in them.”
Nina perked up at the mention of her iron-wolf ancestry. There weren’t many of them left after all. Matti himself was a blend of Amarok, on his dad’s side, and Mexican wolf, on his mom’s. Like my parents were.
Matti kept going. “You know werewolves love kids, it doesn’t matter what kind they are.”
We both knew that from experience. But he didn’t need to sell me on it. I had already sold myself on the community. The ranch.
My chest, though, still felt tight at the idea. I hadn’t lived around people like us in years, not since I’d moved out of my parents’ house when they’d finally retired. Of all the places I’d ever been, my childhood home had been a safe haven back then, and I knew exactly how lucky I was to have been raised around the people I’d grown up with.
Now, I knew that some beings sent others screaming at just the scent of them. At the potential they carried in their bodies. I touched the bracelet around my wrist on purpose.
Being different was hard. I didn’t care what anyone said.
Sienna snapped her fingers again and pointed at Matti. “It’s not a bad idea, baby.”
“I never have bad ideas” was his reply.
Her eyes slid to mine, and we both scrunched up our faces. “Yeah, okay,” I muttered before snickering. She leaned over, and we high-fived. We looked at each other, cackled, and then high-fived again.
I loved her.
He ignored us. “Something Henri mentioned the last time we saw each other made me think there are sasquatches that live there—”
That got me. “Did you say sasquatch?”
Matti nodded, like referring to the big, hairy mythical creatures was no big deal.
Which I guess it wasn’t since he was a big, hairy creature that belonged in folktales too.
Then he said the one thing that would have won me over more than anything. “You know how wolves are toward people we consider to be members of our pack.”
I did know firsthand. I’d been raised by them. Adopted by two of the best ones. I used to stay up at night and wish and wish and wish that I was like them too, even though no one had ever made me feel bad about being different. My parents used to try and sell me on how lucky I was to be special—like I even knew what that meant. I missed them so much, but thinking about them reminded me of my duty.