Who the f**k gave her the necklace?
My eyes tracked Seraphine as she moved around the long dining room table. The heavy oak piece could comfortably seat twenty or more, yet the room felt stifling with only ten of us packed inside. Ten was already more of this rotten pack than I wanted to stomach in one morning, but that was the number I had barked at Jax when I pounded on his cabin door at dawn.
It must be laundry day.
In any decent pack, the women would only repeat an outfit two days running if they had delayed washing. That was the only reason I could imagine for why Seraphine wore the same faded denim shorts and pale pink t-shirt from yesterday. That, and the clothes rail in her cramped cabin had looked ready to collapse under nothing at all.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Every time sh
