WILLOW
The following morning, I walked into the kitchen and immediately stopped dead.
“What the hell?”
A large chunk of what appeared to be an animal’s hindquarters was sitting directly on the kitchen counter.
Not on a tray.
Not on a chopping board.
Directly on the bloody countertop.
A sizable pool of blood had collected beneath it, with thin red rivulets already creeping over the edge and running down the cabinet doors before dripping onto the tiled floor.
I stared at the mess in disbelief.
Seriously?
Didn’t these werewolves have any common sense?
Would it have killed Gamma Caleb to put the damn meat on a tray?
Or, heaven forbid, something absorbent?
I was still staring at the disaster when Lexie wandered into the kitchen.
And judging by the ridiculously happy grin plastered
