Tom

I PICKED up steaks at the grocery on the way in, and light the grill. I bought four, but I swear, I could eat ten. Jasmine’s going to be on to me when she sees me wolfing—heh—these down.

Hell, I can’t believe she hasn’t put two and two together already. I guess werewolf is just so far out of people’s minds as a real possibility, they refuse to see what is.

I’m speaking from experience, of course.

I was so sure my father and Nash had been the subject of some government gene modification or enhancement project. I just never put the wolf thing together. Not even with the memory of my father’s death.

Not until I saw it with my own eyes.

I throw the steaks on the grill, along with corn on the cob still in the husk. Jasmine comes out and hands me a beer.

“I didn’t get Flack. Just left a message. Bryce and Johnson are fine, just restless.”

I clink the mouth of my beer bottle to he