“What the fuck, Nate,” he growled, so low it was practically subsonic. “I told you not to use mag—” “Oh, sorry, did you?” I retorted, cutting him off. “Really? Did you give me some orders? That I somehow didn't follow because I'm not your fucking subordinate?” “Yeah, yeah you fucking are!” he shouted right back. “Because I'm Matt's second, and your mate, and you're in this pack now, which means you follow my orders whether you like it or —” “Make me.” The words flew out before I could think them through, and honestly — probably not my smartest moment.
