35
Sweat saturated my flesh. My entire body stank like a cesspit. Wobbling affected my arms and legs, and they wanted nothing more than to sink me to the carpet, where I could sleep for eons, but pride demanded they hold me up while the other pack still shared the room with us.
“Son?”
I twisted my hung head, bringing Dad’s frowning, blood-streaked face into view beside my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I wanted to say no, that I felt about as grand as a steaming pile of s**t. Like electricity, the after effects of the poison still hummed through my veins, fraying my nerve endings and leaving me twitchy as hell.
Instead, I nodded, my voice hoarse with my mumbled, “Peachy.”
His gaze flittered over me. “You sure?”
No. “Positive. Why’d you change back?”
“Because we think everyone involved came
