“I’ll bake it,” I shot back, lifting an eyebrow. “s*x-shaped.”
“Please do,” Kat grinned around her mug. “Now feed me. I’m starving.”
And just like that, we were all moving.
Breakfast was a blur of laughter and teasing. The pastries disappeared one by one, the coffee mugs slowly drained. Kat sat cross-legged on one of the kitchen stools, her fingers wrapped around her mug like it was a lifeline, her eyes watching each of us with a kind of quiet reverence that made my throat tight.
And we let her have it.
Let her pretend, just for a little while, that everything was fine. That today was just another day. That tonight wasn’t a battlefield waiting to happen.
But it was.
And I hated it.
Storm hated it.
Storm wanted blood.
He wasn’t a loud wolf, not like Midnight. He didn’t posture or
