He came back to Cole's a little after nine, and I knew from his stillness, before he said anything that whatever he'd learned wasn't good.
"Just say it," I told him. We were in the kitchen again, same counter, same distance he always left between us like it was a rule he'd made for himself and refused to break.
"Tomorrow night. The assembly." He exhaled. "My father's going to recommend the pack classify you as a security concern. Restricted movement. Monitored contact."
I heard the words. It took a second for them to arrange themselves into something I could actually react to.
"He wants to cage me."
"He'd call it protection."
"I don't care what he calls it." My voice came out flatter than I felt, which was its own kind of tell — the calmer I sounded, the more was happening underneath
