Alpha Doyle
Sean and I had been sitting at the dining table with the cleaning staff for what felt like an eternity.
I had started the conversation intending to calm them down.
Somehow, I had ended up negotiating with what appeared to be a highly organised group of domestic terrorists.
Apparently, the muddy wolves had not simply made a mess.
They had “destroyed the house.”
At least, that was how the cleaning staff had described it.
“Alpha, we suffered,” one of the Omegas said solemnly.
I stared at her.
“You suffered?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Sean made a strangled noise beside me.
I glanced at him and immediately knew he was fighting desperately not to laugh.
“What exactly are you asking for?” I asked cautiously.
“Compensation.”
“For what?”
“Pain and suffering.”
I blinked.
Sean cough
