Camille's POV
"Remember every single word you said today!"
Lucian's words were cut off by the slamming door. I could easily picture the furious, twisted expression on his face.
But I didn't care. This taste of rebellion felt absolutely amazing.
The hallway reeked of cheap vodka, sweat, and pungent perfume.
Thankfully, that cedar scent—the pheromones I had been crazily obsessed with for five years, but now only made me sick—was entirely gone.
I rubbed my bruised wrist, which he'd squeezed so hard it was nearly dislocated.
Taking a deep breath, I muttered to my wolf, "He said we'll die in the wasteland if we leave the pack. Let's see about that."
The argument had completely ruined my mood, and all I wanted was to get out of there.
But before I even reached the exit, my phone started
