Page 65 of Broken Bonds

Fuck.

I sit back and rub my eyes. All around me are clueless humans going about their day, both in here with me and outside walking into and out of the courthouse across the street.

They lead their self-absorbed lives and usually give little to no thought about things that go on around them that don’t impact them.

Things like monsters rolling up on groups of people just living their lives without fucking with others and getting murdered for it.

Literal monsters.

Because anyone who would do that to children and mates is, in my opinion, a monster.

If you have beef with someone, take it to them personally and don’t be a fucking coward and attack their family.

Then again, people like Sterling are, at their center, narcissistic cowards, which drives the majority of their behavior.

Honestly, it’s amazing that news of the attacks hasn’t leaked out to humans and sent them into a frenzy of shifter-hating madness.

We unfortunately have a long way to go. In this year of our Goddess of 2060, plenty of humans still bury their heads in the sand and willfully ignore what’s going on around them as long as they don’t feel, much less understand, the personal impact on their own lives. They think they don’t know a shifter or a vampire or a fae, or a fill-in-the-blank, so they think whatever happens to “them” doesn’t matter.

But isn’t that pretty much the history of sentient beings on this planet from the moment they evolved from ground-dwelling apes into whatever the fuck it is all of us now are?

By four o’clock, I still haven’t heard anything from Jax, so I pack my stuff and stop by one of the large grocery stores to shop. Might as well stock up since I’m here and it’ll save me another trip later in the week.

I have absolutely zero desire to cook dinner, so I pick up several packs of freshly prepared sushi from the seafood counter because I can shovel it into my snout with no prep involved on my part.

Jax can do whatever the fuck he wants for dinner. He’s a big boy.

Oh, yeah. Still feeling nuclear-level petty.

Check.

It’s super-easy to tell myself to get the fuck over it and myself, but that’s now how my brain works.

Wrapped up in all of this—a huge part of this—is I’m mad at myself for getting my hopes up.

Again.

I’d expected we’d start introducing Mal around and setting up his initiation as long as that went well, but if Sterling’s involved in attacking the nests, bands, and covens, that makes Mal’s very presence in our pack compound…

Problematic.

Before I load my groceries I wheel my cart next door to the liquor store and load up on a few bottles of assorted high-proof beverages that I might feel like imbibing tonight.

What the fuck difference does it make? Not like I’m pregnant or anything.

I angrily blink back the stinging tears as I pay for my purchase, load those two bags into my cart with the rest of my groceries, and then get everything packed into the trunk to head home.

Maybe what I need is an all-night solo run. Cut loose, zone out, and fall asleep curled nose-to-tail in the woods while forgetting about life for a few hours. Burn off some of this negative energy I honestly am not sure how to shake.

I love my husband, but right now my soul hurts in a way that makes me want to lash out, and I know that’s not fair.

But knowing something and being able to respond appropriately aren’t necessarily tied together at the hip.

Not in my brain, at least.

Chapter Thirty

Mal