The phrase refuses to leave my mind.
Fenrir Subject 01 – Bite Compatibility Unknown.
It repeats over and over. I can feel my heart thumping against my ribs with every breath.
Kieran is frozen in his chair, leaning forward, his thick arms locked against his thighs. He’s holding the report so loosely it looks like he doesn’t care, but his knuckles are white. If he flexes even a little bit, the paper is going to tear. Or maybe he’s just barely holding himself together.
“Kieran,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
He looks up. For a second, his storm-gray eyes look human, but then molten gold flashes beneath the surface. It’s like fire trapped under ice. It’s gone as fast as it appeared, but I can still see it burned into my vision.
“What does ‘bite compatibility’ even mean?” I ask. I mea
