AZALEA’S POV
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Gathering the entire pack isn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. Mom said party and everyone agreed— so here I am, sitting behind stacks of party planning things, and too stubborn to ask for help.
This will be the first official party I’ve thrown for the Storm Blazers, and my blood hums with excitement.
“Need help?” Mom asks as she passes me on the way to the kitchen. “Nope,” I murmur, too selfish to share the first time with her. “Just remember—” she starts, but I interrupt her, “Allergens.” I smile, and she returns the warmth with a proud look.
“At least I did something right in life,” she jokes, referring to raising me right. I’m happy she did, because if I turned out like Bexley, I would have killed myself.
Step brother fucker.
Goosebumps of disgust bubble
