VIOLET’S POV

I could never understand the thrill a lot of she-wolves always had when it came to having their make ups done. I was at a point where sleep took me away and I was left dangling my head like a puppet on a show. That was until the back of my neck was scalded by a curling iron.

I jolted awake, wincing from the pain that shot through me, only startling the hairstylist in the process because she yelped. “I’m so sorry.” She apologized, with a fear stricken face that she was almost dropping on her knees to beg.

But it wasn’t even her doing. If I hadn’t...