Chapter 7

Don’s BMW was even more luxurious than the Überwald driver’s car, but none of that mattered.

Not the changed landscape of Logris whizzing past as he sped down the highway. Not the she-wolf squeezing my hand and panting like a lap dog. We were one step closer to Griff, and that made my heart thrum with excitement.

“Of course, you two gals will be working for tips,” Don said. “There’s no basic pay for a job like this.”

“You can’t do that,” Larissa squawked.

I rolled my eyes. Microdon? He’d named himself after a species of Coyote—Canis latrans microdon, otherwise known as the Lower Rio Grande coyote. He should have called himself Microdick for two reasons: one, because he smelled like a weasel shifter, and two, the name pretty much summed up his shitty personality.

Don chuckled. “The moment you stepped into this vehicle and accepted my offer of employment, you also bound yourself to its terms.”

“But you didn’t tell us anything,” she snarled.

He tipped his head t