Page 105

There it is. The demand for information. The same woman who can turn a three-paragraph confession into a psychological profile wants facts.

I understand.

"I don't know everything."

"Start with what you do know."

I look at Sayer. Then back at her.

"Werewolves aren't like stories."

She folds her arms.

"I assumed."

"No silver bullets."

"Good."

"No uncontrollable monsters."

"Also good."

"Most of the time, the wolf is instinct."

"Instinct for what?"

"Survival."

She studies me.

"And Sayer has that."

"Yes."

"Because?"

I hesitate. This is the part I have avoided even thinking.

"Because some traits can be inherited."

The air changes. Not physically. Emotionally. Carys goes still.

Sayer looks down.

"I knew it."

His voice is barely audible. I turn toward him.

"What?"

"I knew something was different."

I soften my tone.

"Different doesn't mean bad."

He looks up.