Chapter 87: The Honeymooners

Giselle’s POV

I slammed the car door shut and gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

What a fucking waste.

Calla was still here, wearing that Luna title as if she ever had any right to it, walking around the house with her head held high like she owned the place.

And Thatcher was paying the price for my failure.

I drove to the labor camp on the outskirts of the pack territory