The Lonely Wolf Read Online Free

Reds’ building shaped liked a big sail made of glass and steel was enough time for Lupo to ponder upon the events of the last month. His mind went to the chilly night that had changed his life forever, and he shivered even though he wasn’t cold.
    ****
    After vandalizing Cradle and Bites, as soon as he stopped vomiting, Lupo drove to Casolare del Lupo with every intention to confront the alpha.
    When he reached the wrought iron gate sporting wolf heads and laurels, Lupo wondered what he would say to the man. The uncertainty didn’t last long. High on adrenaline, he rang the bell until the intercom went off with a buzz.
    “Who is it?” a male voice barked.
    “I’m here to speak to Quintilius.”
    “Do you have an appointment?”
    Lupo grabbed the gate with both hands. “No. I don’t, but—”
    “The alpha doesn’t receive visitors without an appointment.”
    “I need to talk to him.”
    A soft click announced the communication had been interrupted. Lupo shook the gate railings and swore. But he wasn’t going back to his room without asking his questions, so he buzzed the intercom once again.
    “Security is on its way to remove you from the premises,” the man said, not without a hint of amusement.
    At a distance, Lupo could see a car driving along the asphalted path and heading toward the exit and him.
    He didn’t move. “It’s important I speak with the alpha.”
    “Listen, boy—”
    “I am Quintilius’s son,” Lupo blurted out, his heart beating fast in his chest.
    “That’s funny—”
    Lupo heard steps and muffled voices coming from the other end of the speaker, then, “Surveillance will escort you inside.”
    The statement surprised Lupo, but he didn’t have time to think about the man’s sudden change of heart. The car had almost arrived at the gate, when it opened with a well-oiled whoosh. The first pangs of doubt hit Lupo, but he waited for the car to stop before him.
    A man in his early forties, with a close cropped haircut and looking very much ex-army, gave him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Get in.” He tilted his head over his shoulder to indicate the rear of the car.
    When Lupo hesitated, the man lowered his hand to the shift stick and backed away from the gate that had started closing. Lupo hurried inside and ran after the car. “Wait.”
    The man hit the brakes but only slowed the car. Lupo reached for the passenger’s door handle and jumped inside the still moving vehicle. While driving in reverse, the man kept his eyes on Lupo instead of looking at the street.
    When they reached a widening in the path, the man made a U-turn, then drove toward a secondary road that rounded the big manor towering over manicured gardens. Lupo hadn’t expected to be welcomed with a red carpet and a fanfare, but when the silent driver—who kept staring at him with unwavering eyes from the rearview mirror—swerved yet again, and entered a smaller road that led into a thick copse of woods, he began to worry.
    The ride finally came to an end before a small cottage ensconced at the very heart of the woods.
    “Get out,” the man commanded, yanking Lupo’s door open.
    Lupo raised his hands when the man made to grab him by the elbow and exited the car before being thrown into the gravel path. The dark, wooden door on the rock and plaster façade of the cottage opened, and yet another man with the same ex-army look stood sentinel at the entry.
    “Go inside,” the sentinel said, looking over his shoulder and pointing at the room behind him.
    Another order Lupo was fast in obeying, hoping the weirdness was only due to Quintilius’s very public persona. The alpha must receive threats every day, and all the surveillance is necessary , he thought, entering the cottage as the sentinel stepped to the side.
    “So, you are Quintilius’s son.” A woman in her late forties, slim and stern-looking, stood in the middle of a room that in any other circumstance might have been considered