Melvin’s POV
I tapped my fingers restlessly against the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the pack house as if staring hard enough might make it disappear. I ran through every possible excuse, every route of escape that didn’t involve stepping out of the truck.
My head had been a mess since morning. Work had been worse. I’d been distracted, careless—messing things up so badly the guys had to redo half of it. After being cursed out more times than I cared to count, I took the hint and clocked out early.
That only led to my next problem.
Getting my pup.
Louis wasn’t going to bring Clinty out to the truck—no chance. And no one in the pack house would go against their Alpha. If I went inside, I already knew how it would end. Dinner. Lingering. Questions. No escape.
Still, I had no choice
