The lodge feels like total s**t in the daylight. The kitchen is already packed when I step in, and the shift is instant.
Eleven wolves, give or take, and every single one of them turns to look at me like I’m some failed experiment that just wandered into the wrong room.
Which, honestly, I am.
I pause to take stock: faces, posture, who’s curious, and who wants me dead. I keep moving. Hesitation is data, and I’m not giving these assholes anything.
Coffee first. Always.
I reach for a mug.
“Wow,” someone says, breaking the silence like she’s bored as hell. “This is aggressively uncomfortable.”
I glance over. She drops into the chair beside me without asking, all sharp angles and easy confidence.
“Cora,” she says, offering a hand. “I’ve decided you’re interesting.”
“Sienna,” I mutter
