LIAM'S P.O.V.
I stopped to catch my breath.
My chest burned. My hands were bloody. My knuckles throbbed. The gym smelled of sweat and iron. My breathing came in short, ragged pulls. Aragorn had quieted. His growl sat under my skin like a watchful thing.
But the thought would not leave me. Marla’s smug face. Her words like a trap. The pack would smell what they wanted to smell. A child. An heir. Joy, not betrayal. They would cheer at the thought of my blood continuing the line. They would not care about the blank space in my memory. They would believe the scent.
I wiped my hand across my mouth. Blood streaked my skin. Metal filled my mouth.
I forced myself to move. Anger gave me fuel. Anger gave me focus. If I let it loose, I would break everything. That would not fix anything. Better
