Alpha Renard is someone I have had few encounters with. He's come by the house many times through my life, but my parents always sent me to my room, not wanting to parade their shame in front of him.
Today is different.
Today, he sits across from me at the dinner table as my mother serves him, apologizing for the dinner—something Phoenix had brought home from a restaurant in town. Everyone's gaze seems to center on me.
I can tell Phoenix and Dad are furious with me, but there's little point in looking in their direction. There's no point ruining what tiny appetite I have.
Alpha Renard is an imposing figure, towering well over six feet with a muscular build that speaks of years of combat training. His brown hair is neatly trimmed and his face shaved; I don't think I've ever seen him in a state of disarray. He likes to show off the deep scars clawed across his face.
Shifters don't scar easily, but it isn't impossible.
