Ford’s expression was stony as he drove, his left foot tapping the floor of the car. I wasn’t bothered by him; Rocco’s brother had probably been a friend to him too, if not a brother. But I didn’t know what to say or do to help him, so I just gripped his hand tightly in mine and remained quiet.

We stopped at one of those drive-through places with healthy food, and I didn’t say a word when Ford ordered at least three times more food than even three werewolves could eat. He set it all ...