I woke up to the feeling of someone staring at me. When I opened my eyes, Mom was standing in my doorway with her arms crossed and the most disapproving expression I'd seen in months. Her scent was thick with anxiety and anger - emotions that put my wolf on edge.
"Good morning to you too," I mumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.
"Don't 'good morning' me, Paxton Blake," Mom said, her voice tight with barely controlled anger. "I know where you were last night."
Shit. How much does she know?
"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to play innocent while my brain scrambled for a believable explanation.
"I'm talking about the underground racing," Mom said bluntly. "I saw the news coverage. I recognized that black Ducati in the helicopter footage."
Double s**t.
"Mom, I can
