Thomas walked into the kitchen. Jill was at the stove, stirring something that smelled faintly of garlic and regret.

  “I can’t believe you brought one here,” she snapped without turning around.

  “Have you ever actually met one?” Thomas asked, leaning against the doorframe. “They’re not exactly known for being accommodating.”

  Her shadow seemed to darken across her face as she finally looked at him. “Oh, I’m aware of that, parricida.”

  “Really? Latin?” Thomas replied in the same language, raising an eyebrow.

  Jill switched seamlessly, her voice low and cutting. “I’m hoping you didn’t teach the little wolf Latin.”

  “Why are you here, Jill?” Thomas asked, exhaustion threading through every word. “And how? I thought the Order was gone.”

  “Not gone. Just decimated. Thanks to you, traitor.” She was practically snarling now. “And thank God I’m here. You sent a werewolf to summer camp. What were you thinking?”

  Thomas sank into a chair at the kitchen table. His body felt a hundred years old. “She’s a little girl. The daughter of a friend. There hadn’t been a problem in five years.”

  “Your friendship with the wolves brings nothing but trouble. Just like that damned orphanage you tried to start.” Jill shook her head. “Tell me—how did your buddy Daniel react to that?”

  Thomas sighed. “I’ve made mistakes. But that orphanage isn’t one of them.”

  “Is it still around?” Jill asked, incredulous.

  Thomas didn’t answer right away. “Of course I can’t bring her there. It’s why she’s here. It’s why I’m here.”

  “And don’t forget your little murder machine.”

  “Sarah isn’t a murderer, Jill. She’s a sweet kid. Someone set her up.”

  “Oh, gee, I wonder who would want revenge on such a fine woman as Mary—a woman who’s torn through supernatural forces like a tornado ever since she was sired.” Jill threw her hands in the air. “Oh wait—for the drunk bishop and the two other morons in the Episco-fuckin-palian branch not to have the knowledge between them to recognize that? Or do you just sort of do what you want? Like you always have!”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  That struck a nerve. Thomas’s voice dropped to a near-growl. “I made mistakes trying to save my wife. But it was me who put a dagger through her when she couldn’t control it anymore.”

  The words hung between them like smoke. They both seemed to realize the argument was going nowhere.

  “Alright, look,” Thomas said, exhaling slowly. “Why is the Order even here? Assuming you’re still with them.”

  Jill crossed her arms. “I’m still Catholic, so yes—I’m still with them.” She huffed. “But there are very few of us left in the Americas. The Pope hasn’t assigned a Knights’ bishop in years. We only observe now. The real strength is still in Europe and everywhere else in the world.” Her eyes narrowed. “We only have enough here to watch. And me—after you and Daniel murdered our Order—I refused to run and hide.”

  “Jill, you were always a good Knight. But you don’t know what was happening in those halls.”

  “I do know.” Her voice softened, just a fraction. “But you could’ve gone to Rome. You could’ve gone to the civilian council. You could’ve told me—gathered the Knights who weren’t on their side. But no. You went to the dogs.”

  “I tried all those avenues,” Thomas said, rubbing his temples. “You don’t know how bad it was. You’re right—I shouldn’t have turned to Daniel. I regret that now. But in the end… it needed to be done.”

  “You could’ve at least trusted me.” The words came out quieter, almost wounded. “I was your squire.”

  Thomas looked at her for a long moment. “I know. I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough. Good men and women died along with the bad. But it was really bad, Jill. And Daniel was already coming. The only reason any of you survived was because I sent away who I could.” He paused. “Though I thought Mary had hunted them all down.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “We could be here all night yelling at each other about the past. I’m just here to make sure Kim doesn’t kill anyone before the November moon. That’s it. Mary and Daniel will be here then, and they’ll take her back to the Pack where she belongs. As for Sarah… well, werewolves don’t make the best babysitters. She was going to come to Kim anyway. Better with me than her tearing a bloody swath across the continent.”

  Jill rubbed her forehead as if warding off a migraine. “I’m just here to observe. Humans usually can’t become werewolves. Do what you want. But know there are still thousands of us out there. We remember. And you won’t catch us unaware next time.”

  “Who is this man?” Kim's mother asked, wandering into the kitchen. “And is that some kind of Spanish?”

  Jill switched back to English without missing a beat. “He supervised my practicum during my undergrad.”

  Thomas nodded politely. “Thomas Sullivan. I’m also Sarah’s godfather. She came to visit Kim.”

  The mother searched her memory for a second. “Oh—that’s the girl from camp?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, well, that’s sweet…” She gave a vague smile. “I’m just here to get some wine.”

  “Here.” Jill reached into the fridge and handed her a chilled bottle without comment.

  Something about the casual exchange felt off to Thomas—like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. He filed it away to think about later and forced a neutral expression.