Weston's pov
I had to call my father the next day after Huxley broke down in front of Penelope. The thought of this girl, our mate, this woman that a part of me warned not to trust because she was presented to me by the devil himself, seeing Huxley at his low point was worrisome.
And Penelope didn't handle it well either. She seemed in a trance, that made her appear both weak and hurt. And I couldn't understand why she would be hurt by someone else's suffering.
Yes, there is a small chance that I may not understand empathy or how human emotions worked but that is besides the point.
The phone rang sixteen times before my father answered, bloody wanker.
"Weston, to what do I owe the displeasure?"
"You suggested that Zachariah Bechalot come to visit his sons? Are you f*****g stupid?
