Alpha, Not Luna
Shoving the plastic into the box it came in, I rush out of the bathroom, despite my headache fighting the nausea that fills me after dropping it along with the others in the bin, inside my bedroom.
Squinting my eyes, I chase all the way downstairs, grabbing at the arm of the one person I saw, my nerves are a bigger wreck than last night.
“Mary, did you see the alpha?” I ask her softly to not rattle her more. I’m guessing she had a run-in with the deltas or gammas, by the sullen look about her face. They always took things a bit too far.
The alpha is different. I do not call him by his name even when we are alone. See, he might be the father of the whelp in me, but the pack members do not kno
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