SIXTY TWO

With the rate at which she shivered endlessly, one would compare her to a wet cat drenched heavily by the rain – Yvette was unsettled.

It was written on her face, yet none tried to question her – the Scarlet Heart Pack's populace were one to mind their business. That was the sole thing they could do, aside from wallowing in a pool of seemingly unceasing suffering.

At the sink where a maid stood beside her, both were tasked to do the dishes and since night was fast approaching, all were trying to match up the pace.

Yet, Yvette's hands, which were trembling incessantly, let go of a glass plate, and it crashed loudly to the floor, shattering to pieces.

“Yvette!” the Head Maid yelled angrily at her – what was she trying to do? Who in their right mind was unaware of the consequences of setting dinner late?

None were slacking or making silly mistakes aside from her, and frankly, the Head Maid, with the others, was pissed.

“What in Heaven's name is wrong with you?” the aged she-wolf frowned