LENA
The courtyard was alive with noise—laughter, the clatter of dishes, the low thrum of music drifting from somewhere deeper inside the pack house. Children darted between the towering adults, their shrieks of delight cutting through the heavier conversations.
Earlier in the week, Cora had intercepted me in the hallway between the library where I'd been spending more time and the kitchen where I avoided like the plague as there was always half of the pack in there it seemed. She'd looped her arm in mine and told me that she was going into town and wanted to bring me back some new clothes. Since, "Alpha so rudely, snatched you before you could gather so much as a toothbrush," she'd reasoned.
It was true, I'd been repeating the same outfits over and over, soft leggings and cotton dresses, cardigans and sweaters, that appeared one day in the closet courtesy of Dom and whoever he'd told to procure them for her.
