(MASON'S POV)
The backyard was quiet.
Not the comfortable quiet of a summer evening, but the heavy, suffocating quiet of a space where something terrible had just happened. The kind of quiet that settles over a battlefield after the fighting is done, when the only thing left is the aftermath and the wreckage.
Everyone else shuffled uncomfortably, exchanging glances, avoiding eye contact with Blue. Fiona had wrapped the tablecloth around herself like a toga, her earlier indignation replaced with an awkwardness that seemed to blanket the entire group. Abigail had found a discarded blanket and clutched it to her chest like a shield. Erica had ducked behind a nearby tree to get dressed, emerging a few moments later in a pair of borrowed shorts and a shirt from Victor.
One by one, the pack members began to drift toward the mansion.
