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The trip to Bartholomew Ryan's house was a lot more uncomfortable without Devon by my side. Where the forest had been a welcome change of scenery before, warm and inviting, it now seemed like a threatening thing with its isolation and mystery. A few times, I thought about turning back and waiting for Devon to get off of work, but I didn't want to seem cowardly. And so, I pressed on through the hills and the valleys, beneath the towering trees and along the small stream the flowed almost up to Bartholomew's doorstep.

Like the first time I came, there was no answer at the door. Bartholomew was obviously inside. I could hear him walking around and something making a soft clanking noise. He even peaked out the window, but once he saw the color of my yellow jumpsuit I was forgotten.


Mr. Ryan, I've come a really long way. You would be helping out the werewolves' cause by giving me an interview.” My pleas fell on deaf ears, and after several minutes of standing on his doorstep, exasperated, I gave up.

The next house didn't produce any better results. Chris Ross was legitimately gone though. After an hour of waiting, I figured it was time to move on.

Rex Willows' home proved to by just as vacant. I waited for him for an hour as well, but there was no sign of his return. This would be the last time I came out to try to interview the lone wolves. They obviously weren't interested in telling their story, and I couldn't afford to waste anymore time and resources on them if they weren't going to cooperate. Still, I refused to go home completely empty handed. Maybe, just maybe . . .

I opened the door and peaked inside. Just like all the doors in the reservation, there didn't appear to be any locks on this one either. Perhaps that was a stipulation for allowing the lone wolves to live so far away from the main base.

The inside of Rex's house looked like something from an old western show. Furniture was sparse and all handmade. For a bed, there was nothing more than a simple cot with animal furs layered on top of it.

My hand reached for my camera absentmindedly, and my breath hitched when I felt a warm hand closing around my wrist. I spun around just in time for Rex to catch me by both arms. His green eyes stared down into mine with anger.


What are you doing in here?” he nearly spat in my face.


I came to interview you,” I stuttered out, trying to pull away. Rex had an iron grip on me though and wasn't showing any signs of releasing me.


I'll let you interview me,” he snarled, and the way that he said it was a clear indication that I was in big trouble.

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Other books in this series

A Month with Werewolves

A Week with Werewolves

 

 

 

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