Varen
I had never felt the urge to hit something this badly.
My fingers curled so tight around the reins that my knuckles cracked. The cold rain didn't help my temper—it only made everything feel heavier, colder, angrier. Josie had run off, and it was because of us. No. It was because of them.
Kiel.
Thorne.
They'd been acting like she didn't matter. Like she wasn't their fated mate. Like she wasn't everything.
I turned sharply toward the lingering pest that was Michelle. She was still standing there, water clinging to her hair, making her white blouse nearly transparent. She was trying to pout through the cold, probably hoping to spark some sympathy. She wasn't going to get it from me.
"Go back to your place," I snapped.
Her eyes widened. "Varen—"
"Go. Back. Now."
"I was only—"
"If you don't leave, I swear to the moon, I'll forget you're a guest in this pack."
