Ivan nods, then. It had always seemed that one of them would kill the other, really, until a werewolf did it instead. It was, he supposes, sort of funny that the same werewolf ended up killing both of them.

He wonders if it would have been kinder to let Mitchell die with the rest of them in Bristol. He would have never had to know that the woman he'd loved betrayed him, for a start.

Ivan sips his coffee.

"Wyndham's not going to make it pleasant for your wolf, you know."