Alisa
Derrick hums softly while he makes the sandwiches on a little table in the corner. There are two chairs, a single counter with a cabinet under it, and absolutely nothing else. I was wrong. This place is not meant to live in.
If he’s nervous or in any way excited by what’s to come, he’s not showing it on the outside.
“H- have you brought women here before?” I ask. I want to fill the empty silence between us.
“Yes,” he remarks. “I'm over two-hundred-years old, Alisa, and I’m not a f*****g monk.”
I nod. “How is it that no one knows about this place then?”
“Some of them know,” he informs me. “When you live in a pack like this... it's impossible to hide every secret. They just don’t talk about it.”
“S- so they know what you do… what I’m doing?” The thought of going back to the pack
