Jesse.
If I hear one more of Lyssandra’s threats, I swear I might explode. I can’t stand that she-wolf.
A woman who refuses to mind her own business, who’s never once thought about finding a mate for herself.
Instead, she’s buried neck-deep in pack politics, scheming like she’s the shadow Alpha. I have mental breakdowns just imagining the million ways to shut her up, to strip away that pathetic, obsessive sisterly devotion she clings to Zarek with. It’s always been in my way.
It was late—far too late—when Danika finally slipped into my chambers. Her dress was wrinkled, hair slightly disheveled, face flushed red with pure fury.
“I swear,” she snapped, dragging a hand through her hair, “I should have killed her right there. Ended it and been done.”
I leaned back slowly against the ed
