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56. The Cost of Caring
~ RIG ~
I started the drive home like the car was on fire. Natalie wasn’t scared, she knew my wolf reflexes wouldn’t misjudge the road, but she cleared her throat about six blocks down the road.
“You remember you have a little passenger in the back who’s probably already traumatized?” she asked quietly.
For a split second I thought she meant herself and I was going to snap at her—but then the cat gave a tiny little meow.
Fuck.
I took my foot off the accelerator and let the car ease up to a more responsible speed. But I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. If I said anything to Natalie it wasn’t going to be pretty.
I knew she wasn’t the reason the wolves hated humans. She wasn’t
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