The Wolves ✓

12; stay

Freya decided to start with the biggest question in her mind at the time. "Why did you kill those men in the club?"

Tristan was surprised by the question, "How do you know about that?"

"I saw you," she said, simply.

"Well, Freya," he said, his arms over his chest as he leaned in his chair. "Those men were trespassers."

"Trespassers?" she echoed. "They were in a club for Christ's sake."

"They were scavenging, stole some things and shot Hunter from our pack so we ended the threat. We were protecting our family, don't tell me you wouldn't do the same."

Freya stayed silent.

"Besides, one of them shot your brother. They weren't exactly saints."

"Okay but what you did to Greg is reversible though, right?" she said after some thought.

"You can't reverse a bite."

"So he's a wolf, like, what you are?"

"I suppose, yes."

"And you want us to leave in the morning?"

"That would be ideal."

If Freya felt slightly hurt by the comment, she didn't show it.

"If my brother is what you say he is then he needs help. I can't take him out of here being a wolf. What the hell do I tell him?"

"I can't let you stay here, if that's what you're getting at."

"Why not?"

"Because this is the pack house, it's home to the wolves."

"I might not be a wolf  but Greg is."

"We do not accept strangers into our pack, Freya."

"Strangers? You did this to my brother and you need to fix it."

"And you're going to tell me what I need to do?"

Freya heard the anger in his voice and she looked at the painting behind him, thinking of what to say.

"Why haven't you barricaded your windows or your doors?" Freya asked, finally looking back at him.

"Because they're not drawn to us, they don't detect us like they pick the humans out."

"But if those things came into your home?"

"We'd kill them."

"How?"

Tristan seemed to lose his annoyance and instead was amused. "First, we'd transition."

"Into wolves?"

"Yes and then we'd bite and claw those things until they couldn't walk no more."

Freya frowned, not liking where he was going with it.

"And then, finally. We'd rip their heads clean off their bodies."

"I get it," Freya muttered. "What did you do with the stuff from the safe?

Tristan shrugged, "None of your business."

"That's not fair."

"Yeah?"

"You stole them from us. I don't even know what you stole. The least you could do is tell me what it was."

"They were the old witch's journals and notes," he answered, vaguely.