Rogue Mate of the Alpha
From there, I recounted—briefly, of course, not wanting to relive the experience, and without personal details—how I became what I was.
When I finished, Shiloh was still crying, and Kellen—well, he looked riddled with guilt and like he was having an existential crisis right here with his imported cold brew getting lukewarm in his hands.
“Pack wolves and rogues don’t get along well,” I said softly, catching Kellen’s wince. “Ancient feud, essentially. Assumptions, prejudices, elitism. It’s just how things are.”
Shiloh looked at Kellen witheringly through teary eyes. “That sounds an awful lot like racism to me.”
Sikat na Kabanata