“And any female can have a phone?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. And then she casts Devon a black look. “And mothers are not going to neglect their young, and I think that’s pretty rich coming from a male when everyone knows the fathers in this pack don’t lift a finger to help until their sons are old enough to go into the ring.” She folds her arms.

At the elder tables, wizened faces turn bright red.

Devon coughs. “All due respect, but Nuria Devon ain’t my alpha,” he says.

I crack my neck. This is not going to be my proudest moment—handing an old wolf his ass in front of...