THE MAD ALPHA
Jax, one of the wolves I selected to come with me, looks at me from the driver’s seat and his face does this slow twist, like he is trying to decide if I have finally snapped or if he should laugh too.
“Was that you, Alpha?” he asks.
I lean back and drag a hand over my face, still smiling, still breathing like my lungs finally work right. “Yeah,” I say. “That was me.”
Bram lets out this short bark of a laugh from the back. “Holy shit. He does laugh.”
“Do not get used to it,” I say, but I cannot stop smiling, and that annoys me more than anything. “Just drive.”
“We are driving,” Jax says, and he smiles too, careful, like he does not want to scare the moment away. “But you are different today,