Chapter 23 The Wolf At My Door

• I keep my gaze fixed on Elijah, searching his face for any crack in his composure, signs of discomfort or unease. His expression is unreadable—calm, almost too calm—and it’s starting to grate on my nerves. I repeat my question softly but firmly.
• "Do you believe in werewolves?"
• For a moment, his face remains perfectly still, like he’s weighing his next move. Then there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth followed by a long, loaded pause.