Chapter 42

I tremble in front of the massive roaring fire in a state of a surreal daydream in the room that Colton left me in when he brought me into his packhouse. A blanket draped around my shoulders, covering my modesty as he went and got clothes. I’m tucked into the armchair in the corner, out of the way, while some of his pack pace around in the clearing directly in front of the flames, inwardly thrashing something out. They’re wired, agitated, the air thick with the stench of testosterone, blood, and fury, and more are returning by the minute to convene here in this house. The pack is returning from chasing off those vile murderous intruders. It’s all in their actions, their mannerisms, but, as I’m not privy to Santo Pack linking, all I can do is watch the animated expressions and occasional outbursts of a word here and there. They know I’m here, but they’re completely ignoring my presence, much as they have done for years. It’s not like I care. My head aches, and emotions are fragile, bare