Kingston
When I heard Cora’s sharp intake of breath and the crack in her voice as she asked, “Is Riley hurt?” something twisted in my chest.
The feeling in me was instinctive, too forceful to ignore. I had to help.
The Beta driving us—a younger wolf whose name I didn’t know—chuckled lightly as he sped down the highway.
“Boys need to fight in order to grow,” he said with a grin, his golden eyes flashing in the rearview mirror.
I turned my gaze on him, quiet but heavy. Pointed. Immediately, the Beta winced and turned his attention back to the road.
Cora, sitting beside me, clutched her phone in both hands.
“The doctor said Riley can’t get injured,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Not seriously. Not too much blood… He said Riley will just keep bleeding on and on if he does.”
