Alphas arguing with alphas is nothing but a waste of time.
The dregs of cold coffee stick in my throat as I set my mug down with a thud. Fuck, I'm exhausted. My eyelids feel like sandpaper against my eyes, and I rub at them with the futile hope of easing the discomfort.
Forty-eight hours.
Two damn days since I've seen the inside of my eyelids for more than a blink.
I haven't had a chance to even speak a single word with Ava. Not even a text.
It's impossible to keep her a secret forever, but without knowing how far I can trust these other alphas—bringing her into this mess is a risk I refuse to take.
The last thing I need is for the Council to push back and demand that Ava be returned to Alpha Blackwood in order to prevent any more vampire attacks.
