I've been yelled at before. I've never been yelled at by someone whose voice made the windows rattle.
"Get out of the car," he said, and even those four words carried a weight that made the hair on my arms rise, something underneath his voice that didn't sound entirely human.
I got out slowly, some instinct telling me not to make any sudden movements, though I refused to let the fear show on my face. Behind him, I could see a handful of pack members watching from a careful distance, none of them willing to get any closer to whatever was building between us.
"Do you have any idea," he said, advancing toward me, "what could have happened to you out there? A Viper enforcer had you cornered, alone, with no backup, no plan beyond whatever you managed to improvise in the moment—"
"And I got
