ALEXANDER
By the time I reached the pack house, the sky had settled into late evening. I didn’t bother greeting anyone on my way in. I didn’t stop for questions. I didn’t stop for breath.
I pushed through the clinic doors with more force than necessary.
My eyes landed on Cole. He lay on one of the beds, eyes closed but breathing steadily. I moved closer, the anger in me tightening like a rope. Before I could speak, his nose twitched and his eyes snapped open.
He didn’t look surprised.
Of course he wasn’t. He probably knew hours ago that I would come back the moment I heard what happened, regardless of what anyone told me.
“You’re not very good at taking advice,” he said quietly—his voice rough around the edges.
I exhaled, a humorless breath. “You’re talking too much for someone stab
