Hours later, when I slithered into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, a sense of overwhelming relief flooded my body. Around the others—around Callum—I had to be strong. Showing weakness to a member of another pack was not an option, and I couldn’t afford to let my feelings about this development infect the rest of my own pack, either. Macbeth would be accompanying me to the Senate meeting as my second-in-command. Coming face-to-face with Othello, knowing his brother wanted me dead—that would be hard enough for Mac. He didn’t need my emotional baggage making it any worse.
Besides, with werewolves, control was the name of the game.
Never flinch.
Never show your anger.
Never let them see you cry.
It was disgustingly easy for me to shove my emotions into a box in the back of my mi
