The last time I’d spoken to Sora, she’d talked about Macbeth’s potential and what he was meant to be—none of which had anything to do with who Macbeth was. As a purebred werewolf—a rarity in our world, since female Weres were few and far between—Macbeth was bigger, stronger, and more dominant than most, and Callum had groomed him almost as much as he’d shaped me.
But Macbeth would never be Othello, and while I thanked God for that fact, I wasn’t entirely certain that Sora wouldn’t have preferred it if he were.
“We should go,” Callum said, stepping between Sora and Macbeth—between Sora and me. “Othello will have felt our arrival, and I wouldn’t put it past him to send out a welcome party.”
I wouldn’t put anything past Othello.
I’ll take dysfunctional families for five thousand, Alex. Ma
