Fifty Two.

Zane

Some days, she is hard to figure out. She had liked what I was doing for that brief second I was in her head.

My little wolf presses her lips together and drops her gaze, like she had said something wrong, but I love the fact she is honest with me, to a degree. There was still a hell of a lot that I knew she wasn’t telling me.

Letting go of her face, I start taking off my shirt. Her fingers clutches the clasps of the dungarees, but her eyes drift over me.

“Did you…” She clears her throat, turning away. “Did you find anything?”

“The place is abandoned. But I found this.” I pull the bloodied note from my pocket and hand it to her. She frowns at the stains and carefully unfolds it as though it might suddenly burst into flames.

She scans the three words and the frown deepens. “It’s my Dad’s handwriting.”

“I thought as much. I found it in your father’s office. Pinned to the door.”

“What does it mean?” She asks

“I’m hoping you can tell me.”

She turns in the chair and places the bloodie