8

The first and only name on my docket is Michael. The reserved, always kind ex-alpha of the fallen Morning Star pack, Maddox’s dad. I have stopped by to see him occasionally, leaving him some cookies or a cake I stole from the kitchen. I want to make him something fresh, something homemade, but with Priscilla on my ass about becoming a proper Luna time seems scarce.

It’s for this reason that instead of going to my warrior training, I am covered in fucking flour and eggs at five in the morning trying to understand what a ‘scant’ of something is. And why does a recipe even call for it? I read and reread the damn thing three times before Innes. The head cook chuckles and walks over.

“Lana, I can do this for you.” I pout at her and sigh heavily.

“I wanted to do this on my own.”

She smiles, her soft wrinkles reminding me she has much more experience than I do with anything in this kitchen. She has been here for forty years cooking every single day for the whole of the pack house. I wouldn