Freya waited impatiently outside the pack. She couldn’t help but worry and peep nonstop, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on in the meeting.
But it wasn’t futile. And she silently hated the fact that Orson had made her wait there, making her heart race with uncertainty.
About twenty minutes had passed since he strode in, but his figure wasn’t approaching. She arched her brows, wondering if things had gotten ugly in there.
Although there wasn’t any noise.
Slow footsteps approached her, and they didn’t sound familiar or heavy like Orson’s. Freya took a glimpse, the worry lines in her head suddenly deepening at the sight of who’d walked out to face her.
Mia.
Freya’s disappointment expanded, and she silently hissed before throwing her glance somewhere else.
Mia
