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“Oh.”

Shit. Maybe I should’ve given a fake address after all.

Patty lifted the flash drive around her neck. “Now that the interrogation has concluded, are you ready to learn enough about wolf culture to stop nearly exposing yourself every time someone mentions scent glands?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Sloane, you told Uncle Dave you covered your markers with concealer.”

“I panicked.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Patty had already risked herself by protecting me. She had lied to relatives, covered my mistakes, and allowed me to remain inside a family that would be justified in feeling betrayed if they discovered the truth.

I still didn’t entirely understand why.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” I said.

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

She shrugged and opened a package of gummy worms, popping a red one in her mouth. “Because you’re my friend, and currently your entire undercover operation relies on a plastic tooth—with a visible manufacturing seam—and a prayer.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You asked whether catch the wind involved a weather app.”

“I thought it might be a regional saying.”

“It is a regional saying. For running in wolf form.”

I stared at her. “I appreciate this, but really… you didn’t have to.”

“I want you to tell Hudson the truth, eventually, on your terms. But I don’t want the truth to surface accidentally because of your ignorance.” Patty grinned and held up the flash drive. “I made a presentation.”

Of course she had.

Ten minutes later, my television displayed a title slide reading:

SO YOU’RE PRETENDING TO BE A WOLF:

A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO NOT GETTING US ALL ARRESTED, EXILED, OR FEATURED ON A PODCAST

The background featured clip art of a wolf wearing glasses and holding a pointer.

Patty stood beside the television with a wooden spoon she had found in my kitchen.

I sat on the couch, cradling a bowl of cheese puffs and questioning every choice that had led to this moment.

“Welcome,” she announced, “to the first and hopefully only mandatory orientation for unauthorized human infiltrators.”

“Your title slide is a little threatening.”

She glanced back at my TV screen. “It’s educational.”

“You included a blood-red font.”