Each step I take toward Maverick is a stab through my chest.
I stop when we’re side by side.
I pull the list of names from my pocket and do my best not to crumble it in my palm. Instead, I push it against Maverick, forcing him to take it.
“You’ve got work to do.”
Sorry, Alpha Horace. But I can’t do it.
I move to walk away so I don’t have to see Maverick look down at the paper. I can hear him open it because heightened wolf hearing be damned.
“What is this?” he asks.
I stop because my king asked me a question, but only turn my head enough to speak in his direction, “a list of potential Lunas.”
Maverick curses and the next thing I know, he’s grabbed my hand.
“Look, I’m sorry, ok. I only meant that…don't change.”
His words make me turn toward him, “change? I’m being exactly what you asked me to be when you marked me on that stage.”