The whole thing ended when one of the agents produced a photograph of Brandon and his biological parents. It would’ve been glaringly plain to even someone with very bad eyesight, Brandon had no memory of that photograph. The three of them sat together, Brandon on Zoe’s lap smiling and appearing to be clapping his hands. He was maybe a year old. Zoe and William were a quarter century younger, they looked like any other happy young couple with their little boy. For the first time Brandon had the thought that maybe his parents had been in love at some point.
It was gut-wrenching.
Tears sprung from Brandon’s eyes to be hastily brushed away. He handed the photo back saying, “I never saw this before today. I don’t remember it being taken and don’t remember her.” It was the truth too. The woman in the photo wasn’t the woman he’d recently met. Brandon could honestly say he knew nothing of the woman in that photo.
They let him go.
Even as Brandon slid into the seat of Gisele’s rented Mercedes, he expected agents to pour out of the building and haul him away.
No one chased them.
“This isn’t over by a long shot, but none of you will go to prison,” Gisele said kindly.
As they drove, Brandon stared out the window but the only real thing he could see was Raul standing over Zoe with her flesh falling from his fangs.
Werewolves kill to protect.
Raul didn’t leave you.
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