Chapter 126

“You’re lying. I don’t know what you’re talking about or half of what you said, but I know hybrids aren’t a thing.” Terror overtakes me as his words filter in, and my mind refuses to digest what he’s saying because it’s simply wrong. The wolves pride their bloodlines and purity; it’s a massive part of our being and hierarchy. Mixed breeds don’t exist because, if they did, the purebloods would destroy them. They don’t want dilution and mongrels among our blood. They’re bad enough when weak DNA, like my family’s, infects a pack, and those people become calm land workers with no urge to fight and dominate. It’s why the Whyte pack never had any kind of claim to the mountain as a ruling pack, and the Santos own it. Our kind thrives on dominance. We need alphas and purity to survive. The doctor clutches a flat hand to his chest, aghast. Eyes wide, an expression that translates offense. “Lying? I never lie when it comes to science, my dear. I’m a biochemist of the highest order with a special