Reid Gray sat in the passenger seat with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. I had asked him three questions on the drive. He had answered two in monosyllables and pretended not to hear the third, which was, "How did you get out?"
I let it go. I was not going to interrogate a half-dead man bleeding onto my upholstery.
Soon, the pack estate came into view through the trees, and every light in every building was on. Floodlights across the courtyard, headlamps moving along the eastern perimeter, and the glow of the second convoy still staged near the tree line.
Nobody had stood down.
I pulled up to the front of the house and stopped the engine.
"Reid."
"Mm."
"We're here."
He opened his eyes. He looked out the windshield and took a very long breath.
"Yeah," he said. "We are."
