ELIAS
The reports in front of me had been the same three lines for the better part of ten minutes.
I knew that because I'd read them four times and still couldn't tell you what they said. Territory dispute on the northern border, something about grazing rights between two smaller packs that had nothing to do with Ironclaw directly but apparently required my signature anyway. I'd signed worse things half-asleep before. Today I couldn't get past the first paragraph without my attention sliding somewhere else entirely.
It had been like this for days.
I told myself it was exhaustion. The Rogue situation had created enough of a mess that exhaustion was a perfectly reasonable explanation — the political fallout from letting a chained prisoner walk free, Damon nursing a bruised throat and an
