Chapter 50

• If anyone had told the regional Pack Council that the two most feared predators on the mountain were currently being held hostage by a pair of flat-pack wooden cribs and a single miniature Allen wrench, they would have called it blasphemy.
• I sat propped up on a mountain of velvet throw pillows in the corner of the freshly painted nursery, a bowl of salted strawberries resting comfortably on the shelf of my bump, thoroughly enjoying the show.
• "This screw is defective," Ryder growled, his dark eyes flashing amber as he crouched on the rug, surrounded by a dizzying field of wooden dowels, metal bolts, and unidentifiable brackets. "The hole isn't deep enough."