SLOANE
The moment I step into the house, the exhaustion hits me hard.
Not physical exhaustion exactly.
More like the kind that settles behind your eyes after you've spent an entire afternoon getting emotionally ambushed by people.
The adrenaline from earlier is gone now and all that's left is confusion, guilt, annoyance, and whatever fresh psychological disease the mate bond is currently trying to infect me with.
Honestly?
I need a nap.
Or therapy.
Possibly both.
I drag my feet toward the staircase and begin making my way upstairs.
The house is quiet.
Dad is probably still at the pack house or on border patrol.
Mom is probably at the hospital or in her laboratory.
Anyhow, I'm just glad I didn't run into her.
And Alyssa—
Actually.
The second I push open my bedroom door, I fi
