I slipped out a back door. Booming laughter and chatter filled the air. It was stifling; it permeated the air in a way only men who were overconfident in their positions could.
I hated it.
I slipped into the shadows, giving the bright tent a wide berth. It was only covered on top, and I couldn’t be seen out here; I had no plausible alibi.
It took me almost twice as long to get there since I had to stick to the shadows. I hated every extra step.
Finally, I was on my way back. I needed to trim the fireheart anyway; it was growing so fast that someone would surely notice it, and I had a feeling I would need it again soon.
“You b.itch,” I froze when I heard Dalton’s voice.
How did he spot me so far away? Even with his wolf, I thought I was well hidden. I turned around, letting out a s.ig
