KLAUS’S POV
The drive back to the pack grounds was a blur—nothing but the roar of the engine and the suffocating pressure of my own rage. It pulsed through me like a second heartbeat, violent and unrelenting, searing through every vein until my vision tinged red at the edges. My fingers clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white, tendons straining as if the leather might split beneath my grip.
Her face.
Gina’s silence. The way her eyes had widened, then shattered, when Julius’s words hit—your little bastard son—like a blade twisting between my ribs.
And she hadn’t denied it.
A growl tore from my throat, raw and guttural. The car door shuddered under the force of my slam, the sound cracking through the night like gunfire. Two patrol wolves at the gate flinched, their scent
