The sinking feeling that my own father would have anything to do with my mate is eating away at me. Despite my better judgment, I decide to go to their house while Ivy is occupied with her mom. I drive through the pack, pulling into the driveway of their house. I slam the car door hard enough that it echoes around me, vibrating the air with everything I’m holding back. Gravel crunches under my feet as I make my way toward the front door. I don’t knock. I walk in.
“You could knock, you know," my mother's voice says. She stands in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes sharp. There’s no warmth in her gaze. There hasn’t been for years.
“Where is he?” I ask. She doesn’t move.
“You think you can just barge in here whenever you like?”
“I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” I stare her down.
“Iv
