“Which one? We’re under the gym and you’re not here.”
“It’s a different shelter. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m finding you the second this is over,” he said firmly.
“Why?” I asked.
“To make sure you’re okay.”
“I am okay. I just hate sitting here while everyone else is out there fighting.”
“Why would you even want to fight?” he asked in disbelief.
“Because I know I can help.”
Frustrated, I shoved against the shelter door, but it didn’t budge. The thing was solid cast iron. Even with werewolf strength, there was no way I was getting through it. That was the entire point of a shelter—to keep danger out.
I let out an irritated sigh and started searching through the room instead. There were shelves stocked with blankets, food, water, medical supplies—everything someone would need during
