We barely made it five steps into the pack house conference room before Rome was waiting.
He stood at the end of the hallway, arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable—but the tension in his shoulders said enough. The last sliver of sunrise light caught the edge of his jaw, casting his face half in shadow, half in flame. It made him look almost… dangerous.
“Where were you?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cracked through the hallway like a whip.
Quinn didn’t answer. We could both sense the anger radiating off of Rome.
I stepped forward, still holding Quinn’s hand. “We were at the cliffs. He needed air,” I replied, defending Quinn.
This wasn't all his fault. He was still coming to terms with everyone and no one even bothered to care about him.
Rome’s eyes dropped to our
