chapter 137

Trystan

I try not to let my bad mood overshadow cooking breakfast with Sable, but it’s fucking hard.

First, my pack being dicks last night at the meeting, and now, my father’s shadow hovering over me like an unwelcome specter. I want to be pissed at Sable for even invoking his memory, but I can’t blame her. I brought him up first.

This is the first time I’ve ever questioned whether taking the title of alpha from my father was a good idea or not. It’s never occurred to me that I’m anything less than a stellar leader. Though I guess that’s because my circle was fucking smaller than a dime, and my pack spent so much time lifting me up, I wouldn’t have been able to see through bullshit with a flashlight and a map.

By the time I finish flipping a few more eggs—not burned, this time—the rest of the guys drift into the kitchen, still in the clothes they slept in and looking just as rough as I feel. I doubt any of us are used to this kind of emotional fucking rollercoaster.

The oven timer din