Tom Wolfe Novels & Stories

It felt weird, having so close on a daily basis but not really speaking to him, but he was giving me the space he told me he would give me, so I couldn’t complain about that. I had my head down, carrying in with the work Toby had set for the class, but Sophie kept nudging me. I tried to ignore it as much as I could but it was really starting to bug me. ‘What?!’ ‘Mr Wolfe is staring at you’. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head at her... And then waited for her to continue on with her own work before I stole a look up at him... And sure enough, he was. I looked away quickly again, but couldn’t help the little smile that crept onto my lips. ‘He’s so hot’. Sophie whispered again. I just look

Dad and Jacob seemed emotionless as they took everything in. “How many are in his crew?” Jacob asked. “Five,” Torin answered. Jacob looked at him and asked, “two rogue wolves and three humans?” “Yeah.” “One of the rogues has a broken claiming mark on his neck?” Jacob asked. “That’s Maverick. How do you know what he looks like?” Torin asked in confusion. “I saw him on Sunday when I took Maggie out on a date in Bowman.” “Shit! Did he follow you?” Torin asked.

But this was different. This wasn't about territory or revenge or pack politics. This was about Rain. And for the first time in a very long time Damien Wolfe — Alpha, billionaire, the man who had never let anything show — sat alone in his office and felt something that was very close to afraid.

This room barely had any fresh air. He had to finish his business here as soon as possible. With quick steps and movements he began to dismantle the large cupboard in the room. The cupboard was filled with old books, most of them looking like journals. Hugo pulled out some of the journals and placed them on the table. The man flipped through the journal, looking for notes that mentioned the words “wolvire”, “red moon” and “Kliwon Friday”.

Not this. My hαnds trembled αs I yαnked my phone bαck up‚ turned on the front cαmerα‚ αnd tilted it towαrd my neck. My breαth cαught. There it wαs. Cleαr αs dαy. R. Wolfe. His nαme. Stαmped into my skin like ink. Only it wαsn’t ink. Beside the letters wαs the outline of α wolf’s heαd. The mαrk. His mαrk.