"Are you mad at me?" The question sounds pathetic coming from my lips, but I can't help but ask. Ever since we left the daycare center, the mate bond has left a nagging feeling in my chest. I know something is wrong – I can feel it. The noise of cluttering utensils fills the silence. From my spot across the kitchen table, I stare at Benji, willing him to answer. My food has remained untouched since we sat down. It's hard to eat with so much anxious energy floating in my tummy. He finally has the decency to look up, pushing his plate away to focus on me. His features are no longer riddled with anger, but I know he's still irate. "I'm not mad at you." He answers, putting emphasis on the last word. "Well, who are you mad at, then?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. Benji must have thought the answer was obvious as well. He snorts, "I'm mad at that disrespectful pack doctor. If he weren't one of our best doctors, I would have ripped his head off his shoulders for acting l
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