The first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, painting Azura's face in pale gold light. She woke with a jolt, disoriented, her brain still half-submerged in dreams about werewolf politics and suspiciously handsome triplets.
She blinked at the ceiling.
"Jonathan. I was supposed to wait for Jonathan."
She had stayed up last night, determined to interrogate her brother about the Blackwood family—the triplets, their uncle, their mysterious appearance near the Crimson Crest pack. But her body had betrayed her, and she'd passed out before he even came home.
She slapped her own cheeks. Hard.
"FOCUS. I can still catch him this morning. And I have other questions too. Like WHY DOES EVERYONE LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M DYING AND HOW DO I STOP IT."
She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and then marched to the kitchen with the determination of a woman on a mission.
