My father pulls me along with him as he storms through the back entrance of my childhood home, his hand wrapped around my upper arm.
I gave up resisting at the car, when I had tried to pull free of him – to head back to the battlefield, to see what the hell happened after all those Betas had saluted Victor, and then turned around –
Had turned against my father, started to attack his own base –
“Come on, Evelyn,” my father growls at me, tugging me forward. Despite his age, his Alpha grip on my arm is solid and I stumble over my own feet in my efforts to keep up. He’s holding me so tightly that if I fall, I worry he’ll let me dislocate my shoulder rather than let go of me.
“Dad,” I say, my teeth clenched as he hauls me along, “let me go! I’m already in the house, where do you think I’
