Lana POV
One week later
Tate and I hadn’t heard from Drake in a week, his phone not even ringing just going straight to voicemail. Tate wasn’t talking to me and I had heard from no one, not a soul. The house is becoming lonely. Tate always left before I got up in the morning and always came home after I went to bed. It was like living with a flat mate you never see because you work opposite shifts. On the seventh day, my depression came back in full swing so I decided to go see the pack doctor. Sitting in the waiting room I wait for my name to be called. A woman walked out with a noteboard in her hand, she had long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose as she looked down at the notepad before calling my name.
Standing up, I followed her
