Rosaline.
"Is it always this chaotic?" I ask the Delta who's shoving a stack of scratchy blankets into my arms.
She looks at me. "Are you even listening?"
The girl…Helen, I think her name is finally turns. Her eyes are a flat, disapproving slate. I know her type. Mid-level power, a total stickler for rules, and a deep-seated hatred for anyone who isn't part of her little club. Right now, that's me. The outsider.
"I am listening. Is the pack House usually like this?”
“What is your business?”
Before I can volley back, a young Gamma jogs up to us.
"It's true." he blurts out to Helen.
"Shit." Helen grinds her fist into her palm.
I just stand there. Inside, I'm itching to know what "it" is. What juicy piece of pack drama has them so rattled? Not that I need to ask. I know exactly
