Chicago Blackhawks Win Stanley Cup, Their First Since 1961
Without a word, Gabriel pushed back his chair and stood, then walked to the red leather door.
Ethan? I silently asked. He looked at the door for a moment, and for the first time since I’d known him, seemed unsure of the protocol.
But when the other Shifters pushed back their chairs and followed Gabriel back into the bar, Ethan pushed off the wall and followed suit. I stepped in line behind him.
We pushed through the door. The alphas and the baby brother moved to the bar’s front windows, broad-shouldered backs to us, gazes on the dark street. Their body language was tense, the magic in the air prickly and bated as if they were waiting for something. . .