“Where are we going? Am I about to get the promised twin sandwich? Though… we can’t. Not while Koda’s hurt.” I heard a low chuckle in the back of my head that didn’t come from Thorn. “Are Alaric and Lars going to sub in? But… then it wouldn’t be a sandwich, unless it was a club sandwich—” “God damn it,” Thorn groaned, setting me down beside the passenger side door. “The mothers got you drunk.”
