NOLA
Lawrence was standing at the threshold, his silhouette framed by the light of the hallway above. He didn't look hazy anymore. He looked like the Alpha of the North, and he looked absolutely furious.
"Lawrence," Silas said, bowing his head slightly, though he didn't look surprised.
"Get out," Lawrence commanded, his voice vibrating with the power of his rank. "Rhett, Nola, upstairs. Now."
"Lawrence, they need to know," Silas started, but my father was down the stairs in a blur of motion.
He grabbed the journal from Silas’s hand and slammed it shut. "I said upstairs! This is not a debate! Silas, you and I are going to have a very long conversation about the definition of 'blood oath.'"
"Dad, wait," I said, trying to stand my ground. "Silas says there are others. He says we started
