Cassidy.
I sat at the dining table of White Lake Packhouse – my pack, chewing on my perfectly manicured nails – a habit my mother spent years trying to break.
I was nervous.
The late afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows did nothing to warm the chill in my mom's voice as she paced across the room, her voice rising and falling with each word. As always, my father stood at the corner of the room, arms crossed, his face impassive…
He wasn't saying much, which I wished he would at times when my mother went on and on… but as always, he was dedicated to supporting his mate, no matter what.
"Have you no shame, Cassidy?" My mother snapped, staring at me with disapproval. "You're not doing enough, that's why Alpha Ramsey still hasn't made you his Luna and do you know why?"
I just stared at her.
