Hannah's POV
I'm intimately acquainted with fear, trust me. But every time I lock eyes with Gwendolyn, a chill races down my spine, like icy tendrils creeping down my legs and anchoring my feet to the ground. Gwendolyn instills fear in me, and being with Tyrell doesn't alleviate the terror pulsing through me.
And to think I blurted out my intrusive thoughts in the open, with countless werewolves lurking nearby, overhearing my conversation with Tyrell—it only amplifies my foolishness.
But she heard me, and judging by the way she's smiling down at me, her toned arm casually folded across her chest, I know I'm in trouble.
"Ma'am..." My mouth moves, under the direction of my brain.
She clicks her tongue, barely concealing an eager smile. "Is there an issue with me, Hannah?"
I vigorously
