32
In the kitchen, I snatched away from Gabe’s stronghold with more force and aggression than intended—though the walk of shame past Dad and my brothers, and the disappointment in their eyes, had ensured my attitude hadn’t simmered down much.
After stalking across the kitchen to the corner, I spun back toward Ethan, the only one of the pack to have followed us in. As backup, Nate had said. Like I was an outsider who needed an escort.
Staring my way, with an expression I couldn’t decipher, Ethan propped himself against the oak-fronted counters to my right, folding his arms across his chest and half-blocking any access to the conservatory.
Hands still fisted, Gabe stood sentry beside the exit to the hallway.
Brilliant. They’d taken to boxing me in—which only added to my way-too-dark moo
