Timothy
Camp was ending on Friday. By Wednesday the date was looming over me like an execution.
I was only supposed to stay for four weeks. That was the deal when the invitation came to Ironwood. Drills, training, sparring, a chance to be measured against wolves my own age and finish near the top.
That’s why I came.
That’s what I told myself, anyway. I’d known all along she’d be there.
With only two days left I found myself marching across the pack yard looking for her.
Lily had kissed me in that training hall. Then she’d walked away and acted pleasant and dry and occasionally sharp. She never once mentioned the kiss again. Like it hadn’t happened. Like she’d done it to somebody else. Like it didn’t matter.
Friday I’d load my kit in the truck and drive back to Ironwood and that woul
