Prue
The pack house smelled like wet fur, engine oil, and the fading smoke from the yesterday's fire pit outside when I walked towards the truck. My mood was already sour enough to curdle milk, and the moment I saw Andrew walking towards the car and John at the back my irritation sharpened like a knife dragged over stone. My two favourite people in this pack – mind the sarcasm.
No way in hell I was sitting next to Alpha boy. John had taken the back seat, legs stretched like he owned the damn vehicle.
“Move out, little legs,” I barked at him.
John frowned but started to climb out. “I don’t have little legs.”
I slid into the seat just as he moved towards front, Andrew pulling the driver’s door open in the same moment. Three doors slammed shut almost simultaneously, the sound echoing thr
