Not His Destiny
Rice scatters everywhere, stew splatters against the tiles, the sharp clatter seems to never end, the tray rolled towards the fridge and slammed against it.
“We’re leaving the Puremoon pack lands by month’s end,” Celeste says, stepping right into the mess, grinding rice under her heel. “Cici, if you know what’s good for you, leave this pack. Leave Dante and disappear. Everyone’s already angry at you, especially Bernard. And you know his temper. Be careful walking at night. Maybe it’ll be you. Maybe it’ll be one of your sisters.”
She doesn’t see the slap coming.
I don’t either.