Rowan
Kara wouldn’t stop talking.
The words blurred together—omegas not listening, the florist changing arrangements at the last minute, the caterers asking too many questions, the seating chart “not making sense anymore.” She paced the bedroom with a stack of papers clutched to her chest, breathless, frantic, looking at me every few seconds, expecting constant reassurances. I barely heard her. My attention was elsewhere, fixed stubbornly on the events of that morning.
The border patrol had not gone the way it was supposed to.
“I may suggest sending a few guards to clear out the area. You will find the dead bodies of six rogues. Unless you want the crows and the vultures to have a feast.”
Six. Not wounded. Not chased off. Dead. The words still burned in my head.
I had carefully ar
