"Alpha Gideon, let's go help Vivian out," Frank urged, ignoring the risk of drawing his disapproval.
Elliot, less bold but clearly agreeing, chimed in.
They couldn't just leave me sitting there in a wheelchair, gawked at by strangers like some sideshow.
Alpha Gideon lifted his gaze, his tone dry as dust.
"If you want to help, help. Don't act like I'm some heartless alpha."
He gave the go-ahead.
Frank turned the car around, but before we could reach , a white BMW pulled up first.
A she-wolf in a sharp red suit—crisp trousers paired with a black silk blouse, sleek and badass—strode toward me with purpose.
"Why're you rolling back in a wheelchair? Did Alpha Adrian lose it and try to break your legs to keep you from running?"
Cassie asked, half-teasing, half-concerned, her wolf’s worr
