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Chapter 17: The Answer Man

After a lengthy, agonizing stretch of silence, he cracked a grin. "When you go in, you go all in. That’s for sure."

"Any gaps I need to fill?"

"No." He shook his head against the pillow. "I think I’ve got the gist."

"Good. I’ve got questions."

He pushed himself upright slowly. "I’d be concerned if you didn’t."

Like a scene from a bad movie, Wulf’s cheeks and the depressions near his bones reinflated, his fingers uncurled, his torso relaxed as strength returned to his muscles, and his chest puffed out sharply with his first solid breath in who knew how long. He groaned and stretched his arms toward the ceiling.

"First question. Where’s the staff?"

"They annoyed me."

"That is not an answer." I pegged him with a harsh glare.

"I fired them. That little ‘friend’," he air-quoted, "of yours is a thief, by the way."

I cocked an eyebrow. "I’m assuming you handled that?"

His expression contorted incredulously. "Um, duh."