Ophelia was working at the city library today. For the whole day, she had been stacking books and managing the register, cussing at the fact that technology did not quite work inside the werewolf cities and hence, she had to write every record down on her own.
The task at the house was almost complete, aside from a few boxes which she needed to sort through; she had left the storage room looking a lot breathable than when she had found it.
She rolled her eyes when she saw one of the omegas walking towards her with a fresh stack of books.
“These need to be stored in the west wing.” The girl, who was almost Ophelia’s age, said with a lazy roll of her eyes. From the look on the omega’s face, Ophelia knew that she did not wish to be in a rogue’s presence for longer than she had to.
With
