Thirty-Eight: Greyson

My leg bounced as I sat on the porch next to a sleepy Freya who had just gotten in. The steaming cup of coffee in her hands seemed to be more for warming her hands than drinking, as she had only taken one sip in the several minutes she had been out here with me.

Usually, I would kick my feet up on the porch railing and relax back into the cushioned bench seat, but my entire body was tense. It felt like something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.

Was it my people, my woman, or that I couldn't get a signal anywhere in my house today on the cheap phone I hadn't wanted in the first place?

Sloane was supposed to text me when she got home, and not receiving her message to confirm her safety had me on edge.

It was reasonable to assume that she had either forgotten to text me or had been pulled into something when she got home, probably her family breakfast, but I still hated it.

I wished I could walk her right back to her pack border and send her off with a kiss, but she had ref