Lucian exhaled a low rumble of ire, and Xander snapped his jaw, but a single glare from our father silenced them both.
"Clean yourselves up and apologize for the pathetic, disgraceful spectacle you just put on," Dad continued, rigid as a general. "Kat, sweetheart, bring out a couple of blankets, please."
Too shaken to say anything, I followed the order like an automaton. I hurried back into the living room and stepped out back into the garden with two soft faux-fur throw blankets. Dad snatched them from my hands and tossed them to the two wolves.
Within seconds, my brother and my ex-husband were standing on the lawn, covered in scratches and bleeding scrapes, wrapped in two plush, pastel-colored blankets: one pink, one lilac. The sight would have been comical if the air wasn't vibrating
