Iris's POV
Before I could respond, Amelia spoke again, her voice soft. "Just take it slow, Iris. You'll get it right." She tilted her head, her tired eyes crinkling with a small, encouraging smile.
Thank God she didn't give me a chance to answer. How could I have told her I'd thrown the book in a fit of anger? That same book she'd risked so much to get for me, nearly costing her life when her asthma flared up, only to be saved by Alpha Lucas's inhaler. The memory only made me feel bad for my actions. I forced a smile, nodding instead. The thought of going to find that book from where I'd thrown it intensified but why? Why should I get the book when it was useless? It doesn't matter anymore. To hell with it and to hell with Lyra. I'm no longer interested in being a werewolf like I stated earlier. And it's also a good thing Lyra hasn't spoken to me ever since I'd shut her up, never to speak to me again.
