W.I.L.D.
Ben howled as Cheyenne locked him into something that looked suspiciously like an MMA submission hold.
“Which one is it this week?!” he demanded, thrashing dramatically as Cheyenne twisted his arm just enough to make him yelp. “Is it pineapple again? Ravioli? Hakuna Matata?! For the love of all that is holy, woman, give me a hint!”
No one moved to help him. The group had scattered into a loose circle, laughing, hands over their mouths, eyes watering. Gunner actually fell backward onto the grass, clutching his ribs. Even Thorne cracked a rare grin.
Hot Chapters