Eleanor's POV
For a moment, the sound of the chase—the roaring engines, the screaming tires—faded into a dull hum. I could only stare, my mouth agape.
I had a hunch they were wolves, Beatrice commented, her tone annoyingly smug in the confines of my mind.
You… you knew? How? I mentally sputtered.
I just do. It's a sense. A vibe.
And you didn't think to tell me?!
Even if I did, you wouldn't have believed me. Besides, I don't need to tell you everything I think. You should be smart enough to figure things out yourself.
I was about to retort when Roxy's voice cut through my internal argument. "Eleanor, you gotta learn to keep your face neutral when you're talking to your wolf. Otherwise, people really will think you're really a mental patient."
I recalled the accident i had with them. And Roxy's voice: "Is Eleanor a werewolf?" I'd thought I'd imagined it in the haze of pain and shock. It was true.
"So that…" I began, but Mira cut me off, her focus absolute.
