“Because he still lives in the fifteenth century,” Alexander said, and the anger in his voice was evident. “My father thinks we’re animals and that we should act with ‘racial pride.’ I think we’re people and that we should behave like such. I wanted a family. He wanted an alpha male for his pack. I couldn’t live like that. In a pack, an ‘alpha’ decides who lives and who dies. I’m not going to become a beast — not like him.”
A chill ran through me, but I pretended it was the cold wind.
Was I glimpsing a serious accusation behind the scenes?
I should have bitten my tongue, but I didn’t:
“Did your father kill an innocent person?” I dared to ask.
“I can’t affirm that per se — not really. I doubt it was in person. But I suspect he gave some orders. Not for people — for people like us. My m
