Kane
“What makes her even qualified enough to lead anything?”
I turned my head slowly toward the sound. Sitting there was Nathan, Janet’s son, barely eight years old and already spoiled beyond repair.
His golden curls framed a smug little face as he sat perched like a prince, his tiny wolf aura arrogant and untamed.
“This family’s full of scholars and alphas,” he sneered. “All she knows how to do is lounge around and look useless!”
A ripple of laughter moved through the table, quiet and hidden behind cups and napkins, but I caught every sound.
My wolf bristled.
The pup was echoing words fed to him by his mother, no doubt.
Janet, of course, didn’t reprimand him. She smiled. A slow, approving curl of the lips.
Before I could open my mouth, another voice joined the game.
“Nathan,
