“Maybe? Could I be from another continent?”
“That’s one explanation. Lowe has contacts in Europe, so we’re exploring that. More likely . . .” Juno pauses. Her eyes meet mine. “There’s one American pack whose structure has gone through several transformations. Most of its records were lost.”
“Okay. And will you tell us which pack that is, or— ”
“No need.” I interrupt Misery, because I already know. “It’s the Northwest, isn’t it?”
She is braiding her hair. Bends her head forward, sectioning the strands and paying no mind to the world around her. Doesn’t notice him lingering at the door. Her bare nape is there for him to stare at, pink and vulnerable and accessible.
It’s so flagrantly indecent, he must excuse himself.
IT’S MISERY WHO ASKS THE ONLY SENSIBLE QUESTION: “HOW DO you lose a g
