Lisa staten

I’ve been in this life for fifty years, been trying to work out its riddle for forty-two, and been keeping diaries of clues to that riddle for the last thirty-five. Notes about successes and failures, joys and sorrows, things that made me marvel, and things that made me laugh out loud. How to be fair. How to have less stress. How to have fun. How to hurt people less. How to get hurt less. How to be a good man. How to have meaning in life. How to be more me. Recently, I worked up the courage to sit down with those diaries.

Surviving a werewolf attack should’ve been the strangest thing to happen to me tonight. But no, the universe had other plans. Now, I’m stuck dealing with a broodingly hot guy named Wesley St. John—who seems way too comfortable with murder. Definitely a red flag, right? Wes isn’t just some guy I stumbled upon—he’s a protector, but not the friendly kind. His job is to keep the supernatural world in check, and my ignorance is making things complicated.

I killed a girl last night. I did it with my bare hands and an old piece of pipe I found lying next to the dumpster. But that's not the part that got me. The part that scared me, the part I can't seem to wrap my head around and still has me reeling, was that when she charged me, her body shifted - and then she was a wolf. All snapping teeth and extended claws.