Subtle Has Left the Cabin

Vera

The cabin smelled like mothballs, peppermint schnapps, and the faint tang of old gas from the lawnmower Juno stored in the corner. She called it cozy. Lorna calls it “claustrophobic.”

Dmitri sat stiff in my recliner like he was royalty stuck at a bingo hall, white hair gleaming under the lamp, posture all noble. The alpha had been through hell, sure, but all I could think was damn, that hair.