Page 53 of Fate, Interrupted
“And how long has this been going on?”
The phrasing tightens my jaw. “Nothing is going on.”
His expression doesn’t change.
I exhale slowly and try again. “I’ve seen her a few times. That’s all.”
“At the bookstore.”
“Yes.”
“At the bar.”
“Yes.”
“And she came here today.”
I don’t answer immediately.
He notices. He always notices.
“She came to see you,” he says.
“Yes.”
He leans back slightly, studying me with the same attention he brings to problems he’s deciding how to handle.
“Does she know what you are?”
“She knew before I said a word. It’s not a secret.”
“How much does she understand about what that means here?”
“She’s asking the right questions. I’m answering them.”
“And what was so important that she had to venture into pack territory by herself?”
I swallow. If there’s one thing the old man is, it’s relentless. A dog with a bone, he’ll worry me to death until I give him what he wants. I resign myself.
“How close?”
“She saw something she wasn’t meant to see.”
“Meaning.”
“She saw my wolf when it was too close to the surface.”
That changes the room in a way I feel more than see. I have his attention now, a stillness coming over him that is different from the calm he’s been maintaining since I sat down.
“And she understood what she saw?”
“Yes.”
“She’s said nothing to anyone?”
“Not that I know of.”
He looks at his hands on the desk. Then he stands and moves to the window. He stands rather than sits—this has moved from a conversation he was conducting to a reprimand.
