"Start from the beginning." He gave a small nod, shifting away to sit on the edge of my bed, close enough to touch if I wanted to. Not that I did. "Alright," he agreed, rubbing a hand over his short-cropped hair. "So we start on the night of the massacre." Somehow, this didn't surprise me in the least. Deep down, I'd known that was where this story began. The Timberwolf massacre.
