After she had briefed the pack, they’d hurried into the living room, no doubt dying to get details of the battle from Cortez and Keryn. While she half-listened to the exaggerated retelling of the battle, she paced the kitchen, waiting for Barron to return. She desperately wanted to check Barron’s wounds and talk to him. What was the motivation behind his claim? Was he helping? Was he challenging for her territory? Was it a fluke, something just blurted out? She stopped pacing to stare out the window, wondering if Barron had realized, post-fight, that he’d bitten off more than he could chew when he’d lied for her. Is he already gone? The thought was jarring. Barron could very easily have simply walked away. Despite the hollow feeling produced by the thought of Barron leaving them, Willa couldn’t blame him. Worried now that he’d simply left, Willa hurried to the door. She opened it just as Barron stepped onto the porch.
