Evan's POV
I watch Anna work the next morning, and I finally ask her the thing I've been wondering since the day she traced Cass's money farther than any wolf could.
She's at the little table in her room, papers spread everywhere, a manifest number in one hand and a public-records printout in the other, and she's cross-referencing them with a speed and a certainty that would put my father's stewards to shame, the men who've managed the pack's holdings for decades. She doesn't even look like she's trying. She looks like a person doing a thing her hands know by heart, the way I fight, the way I move, without thinking.
"How are you so good at this," I ask. "I've been meaning to ask for weeks. You're eighteen. You're a swimmer. You go to school and you live in a fishing town and by every ac
