Quinlan (Lan)
I drew a deep lungful of earthy forest smell as I climbed out of my truck and popped some creaky joints back into place. Home. I was glad to get out of Seattle.
What a s**t show! I would have been less surprised if they had a sign saying, ‘Rogues, roll up, roll up, free-for-all.’ That place was a joke. My brother and Dad would flip out when I filled them in. They both shared my hatred of poor training regimes and border control. True, not everyone had the fancy pants technology my brainiac twin had developed for our packs and the extra witchy mojo we had going on. But for smaller packs it really wasn’t that hard to understand. Patrol. Your. Borders.
Anyway, hopefully, I’d left them with a good foundation, and if they stuck to it, they’d be okay. I couldn’t babysit them
