Harlow Pov
"Keep the kid out of the main hall, Harlow. I don't want to hear him running around when I'm trying to handle club business."
Torin’s voice echoed harshly across the kitchen, sharp and completely devoid of
warmth. He didn't even look up from the coffee he was pouring.
I stood near the refrigerator, holding Max’s hand. A few feet away, Vanya sat on one of the barstools, a smug, satisfied smile spreading across her lips as she watched the Alpha put me in my place. Two members of the Old Guard chuckled low in their throats from the corner booth.
"He lives here," I snapped back, making sure my voice carried enough defensive venom to sell the act. "He's allowed to walk to the kitchen."
"I said keep him out of the hall," he warned, finally turning to pin me with a cold, dead-eye
