(Lysander’s POV)
*RING!* *RING!* *RING!*
The phone buzzes in my pocket for the fifth time in an hour. I don’t have to look to know who it is.
The Werewolf Council has been demanding my return to America as if my entire existence depends on it.
I let it ring out again, exhaling slowly as I watched Hazel and Asher from a distance. They’re playing on the porch, completely unaware of my presence.
Another call.
I grinded my teeth before finally snatching the phone out of my pocket.
“What?” I snapped.
“Alpha Lysander,” a deep voice greeted me. Elder Roland. He’s always been the most persistent of the bunch. “We’ve been trying to reach you. You cannot keep ignoring us.”
“I can and I have,” I replied, leaning against the wooden railing of the balcony. “Try harder next time.”
“This is not
