He gives a faint smile. “And if she trusted herself, perhaps she would have.”
His words hit harder than I expect. I lean back, staring at the ceiling. “You always have to make it sound like a sermon, don’t you?”
“It’s called perspective, son.” He chuckles quietly. “You’ll appreciate it when you’re older.”
“Older? I’m already running half this damn pack.”
He smirks. “And still learning.”
Before I can reply, the door bursts open. Jace storms in, his boots thudding against the floorboards. His expression is a storm of frustration and guilt. “You’re talking about Stevie, aren’t you?”
I glance at my father, then back to Jace. “What’s got you so worked up? Is there trouble in the pack?”
Jace shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, not exactly. I just came from talking to Stevi
