Logan
Brie keeps toying with her coffee mug. It’s like a nervous tick. Like she needs to do something with her hands at all times.
If I were in a different state of mind, I’d probably be thinking about what those hands would feel like braced against my chest. I would again be questioning why I rejected her, ignoring and damn near forgetting why I needed to in the first place.
But right now, I’m blinded by absolute, stunning rage.
“Brie–”
“Not many,” she says under her breath. “Maybe… ten Alphas.”
I close my eyes, trying to pull myself together. Of course, I’ve seen the headlines, which are normally dominated by Blake, who tends to put himself in precarious situations at night clubs and other seedy establishments in Crescent Falls… but whispers about Brie have been more common sinc
