There are no permanent friends, no permanent enemies—only permanent interests.
This trip to Boston was for an investment partnership negotiation with Blackpine Pack.
Among werewolves, half of the business deals were settled over drinks at the dinner table.
When we pushed open the door to the private room, the first thing I saw was a teenage boy in a black T-shirt, sitting with one leg crossed while playing a game. His silver-gray hair shone almost painfully bright under the lights.
Ethan frowned. "Why are you here?"
Hearing his voice, the boy lowered his phone and turned around. A handsome, sunny face appeared. He leaned back with both hands behind his head, looking completely relaxed.
"Can't be helped. My dad doesn't want to see you."
Then his gaze moved past Ethan and landed on me
