Elena
I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe properly. I just stood there like my body had been unplugged from reality. My phone was still in my hand, glowing like it was mocking me. Thirty-five missed calls from Mum. Thirty-five. Who even calls thirty-five times unless something is wrong? Horribly, terrifyingly, gut-twistingly wrong. My throat went dry, and for a second, I couldn’t feel my legs.
And the messages—oh my Goddess—the messages were just sitting there. Twenty-three unread. Twenty-three. That was not normal. That was not “just checking in” or “hope you’re doing well at school.” That was “the world is ending and I didn’t know how to tell you in one message so I sent twenty-three.”
My wolf, who was literally howling with laughter five seconds ago because of my insane friends, was
