Lizbella was already in the break room when I arrived at work, perched on the counter like the boss she is.
She was sipping coffee out of a chipped mug that read, Therapy Is Cheaper Than Murder. Her wild dark curls framed her face, and her expression was as stormy as the dark brew in her hands.
“Morning,” I said cautiously, setting my bag on the small table.
Lizbella didn’t reply. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and took another sip, her silence louder than any greeting.
“Okay,” I muttered, sliding into the chair across from her. “Go ahead. Say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re an idiot.”
I let out a sharp laugh, more out of disbelief than amusement. “Good morning to you too.”
“I mean it, Briar.” Lizbella hopped off the counter, her boots thudding against the tile as she crossed her arms. “You’ve officially lost your mind. Training with those Lycans? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
I bristled at her tone, leaning back in my chair. “I’m not trying
