“I thought the Elders already decided,” I said, confused.
“Some of the werewolves demanded a pack meeting and said they deserved a say. The Elders agreed,” Phebe elaborated further.
“Great,” I said, wrinkling my nose as I rose to my feet.
“Good luck,” Markos said, the sarcasm in his voice evident.
“Have fun,” I said, returning his dry sarcasm before tailing Phebe out the door.
“Since when are you two friends?” Phebe asked, noticing our interaction.
“We aren’t. We used to be. It’s a long story,” I said, stopping once I noticed her baffled expression.
“Come on. We’re already late,” Paris reminded us as we picked up our pace.
“What’re you going to do if they say you have to go back?” Phebe asked curiously.
“I’ll leave. But I’m not going to the vampires. I’ll go somewhere else,” I replied, unsure.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Paris said.
“You don’t know that,” Phebe said grimly.