Page 61 of Wolf Tormented
“Why did you knock? You never knock.”
“Why are you up here all alone and wallowing?” Angela asks.
“Same shit, different day. Archer and I had a fight, and he stormed off.” I drop my hands to the bed and grip the comforter on either side of me in tight fists.
“He’s under a ton of pressure, Jara, trust me. This will be fine.” She steps toward the bed.
“Seriously, Angela, I’m fine. I don’t know why I even let it get to me anymore. It’s insane.”
Stupid heart. Stupid hope. Stupid fucking alpha.
“There’s more to all this than you’re aware of, okay? Just be patient with him.” Angela pats my leg.
I jerk away from her, not wanting to be placated like a child.
“Why did you come up here?” I ask, deflecting her comment.
She raises an eyebrow knowingly but doesn’t comment on the subject change.
“McKenna is in the storeroom with a list.” She grins.
“She actually got them to talk?” I lift my head from the bed.
Maybe we can work through this. If McKenna can pull the pack’s needs from them, I may be able to stand being guarded at all times.
Yeah, probably not.
“I’m more impressed that she got them to admit to needing anything,” Angela says.
“That’s for sure. Stubborn shifters.” I jump from the bed and head out the door behind Angela.
The house is silent as we rush down the stairs and into the storeroom where McKenna is waiting for us, list in hand.
“I can’t believe you got this already,” I say.
“It wasn’t easy.” She holds the sheet of paper out to me.
I scan the list. It’s all basics that we already have plenty of in here right now. They aren’t even trying.
“We have all of this.” I sigh and hand the list back.
I glance around the storeroom. Nothing except what me and Angela have done is put away, and I grimace.
“They are stating their needs, Jara. That’s all we asked of them.” Angela pats my shoulder.
It doesn’t make me feel any better. I may have been able to get more out of them if Archer wasn’t being a complete asshole.
A scream of frustration bubbles up my throat, and I slam my hand down on the metal table. It creaks ominously from the strength of the hit.
“I just wish that man would stop tying my hands like this.” I flop on the floor in front of one of the boxes and tear it open.
I don’t even care what the box looks like when I’m done. Cans fall out and roll across the floor.
“Shit.” I lunge for one of the cans about to roll under the table.
The fucking thing gets away from me and smacks into the shelf on the other side of the table. The shelf rattles with the force of it but thankfully doesn’t fall.
Angela rushes over and steadies the shelf, and I breathe out a sigh. I don’t particularly want to get beat up by produce. I’m already pissed enough as it is.
