#Chapter 59 Frost Pelt
Gordon’s POV
I stumbled down the stairs of my house, trying to shake off the weight that had forced me to take a mid-morning nap. I had been lucky that I didn’t pass out in the distillery. That was the last thing the remnants of Frost Pelt needed to see.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could put it off though. I was losing time more often these days. The only solace I had was my office at the distillery and the familiar pace of managing production. I tried every day not to think about how quiet the house was without my brothers and nephews or how empty my life had become since Grace, my mate and wife, had been killed and my little girl was taken.
I was grateful that I was not certain she was dead too. I was grateful that the few of us who had survived the attack could still band together and that not everything had been lost, but I had no faith that Teagan was searching for her any longer.
