"Where the hell is that son of mine? Ugh, must he always prove difficult?"
She walked straight into his room and found him seated on a chair with a glass of drink in his hand.
"Why aren’t you dressed yet? The car is ready for you to leave now. Get dressed, Ethan. You’re already late," Freda said, tossing a folded black hoodie onto his bed. Her voice was clipped, her posture rigid as she stood in the doorway.
Ethan sat shirtless and barefoot on the chair, eyes glued to the floorboards near his bed. He set the glass on a nearby table, stood up, and faced his mother.
"I’m not going," he said.
Freda stiffened. "This again?"
"I’m not taking anyone from that school," Ethan muttered. "I won’t be part of any sacrifice."
Freda stepped into the room, her wolf close to the surface. Her presenc
