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CHAPTER 8 — Bubbles and Blunt Questions
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2026-02-02 11:30:34He was gone by morning. Of course he was. I woke sprawled awkwardly on the garage floor, my cheek pressed to my own folded arms, the concrete cold enough to make my bones complain. The lamp still glowed on the workbench. The thrush rustled once in her dim corner, alive and offended at the world.
And the massive black wolf. Nothing but a smear of dried blood on the floor where he’d shifted in the night, and the faint imprint of his warmth lingering like a ghost.<
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