Violet didn't get the chance to ask her question because Roman was already ascending the wooden stairs with minimal effort as if he was carrying mere air and not a grown human like her.
Instinctively, she tightened her grip around his shoulders, pressing herself closer as the steps beneath them groaned and creaked ominously. A scream hovered at the tip of Violet's tongue when one particularly fragile plank let out a cracking sound, her heart seizing at the thought of them crashing down. And breaking her pretty neck.
Violet wanted to tell Roman to stop, that the flimsy rope supports wouldn't hold both of their weights, but before she could utter a word, they already reached the top. What the…. Violet was rendered speechless. Fucking werewolves!
The platform they stood on was stable, but the entrance to the tree house was not a door, but an open archway framed by roughly cut wooden beams, weathered with age and exposure.
