Alpha Landon
I'm lead into an office of sort, which room temperature is seemingly colder than down stairs, with all the sweaty, dancing bodies.
Landon seems in particular discomfort, as he turns around, his eyes meeting mine.
"Althea..." he breathes, and my heart stops momentarily.
"How did this happen?" I gesture to his person. He frowns slightly, so creases forming on his forehead. He's the definition of an Alpha now, like he would fit in with the rest of them, even if he is the youngest.
"I phased. You were right, I'm better now," he concedes, a smile lighting up with face. I'm struck by his indifference. There is a bitter, sour taste in my mouth. Is he the same Landon, because if not, he's surely not
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