Nixon’s POV
"You shared her bed twice now, Nixon, so stop lying to my face," Christopher said. He did not knock. He just shoved the heavy oak door open until it banged against the wall, his boots crunching loud against the floorboards.
I kept my eyes fixed on the desk, my fingers tracing the edge of the dark, plastic phone he had just dropped next to my coffee. "Get your hand off my shoulder, Christopher."
He did not move his hand. His fingers dug deeper into my leather jacket, his grip tightening until the leather groaned. "The whole pack is talking. Sentinels have eyes. They see you going into her room at midnight. They see you leaving at dawn."
"I am checking her pulse," I said, my jaw tightening until my teeth clicked. "Nothing else."
"She is a stray from a rival territory," Chris
