Arthur
“ALPHA PRESIDENT—OR LUNA’S GUARD DOG?”
I sigh as I look at the news article on my phone screen, which displays a picture of me from the other day at Wellington Academy. My fangs are fully extended in the photo, eyes glowing red as I tower over the protesters.
Beneath the photo is a statement from the woman who threw the tomato. She claims she threw it at Iris, not Miles, which is bullshit; she also claims I physically threatened her and the other protesters.
That part, at least, is technically true.
When that rotten tomato flew toward my mate and son, something in me snapped. My wolf surged up with such fury that I could barely contain him, barely keep from shifting right there in front of everyone.
Even now, days later, thinking about it makes me want to ri
