Damon's POV
Three days. Three f*****g days as Alpha, and I already wanted to punch a wall.
I sat at what used to be my father's desk, now stripped of his hunting trophies and pretentious artwork. The leather chair still smelled faintly of his cologne, a constant reminder of what I never wanted to become.
Every muscle in my body ached. The Alpha power surged through me like electricity—heightened senses picking up conversations three rooms away, enhanced strength making me break a pen just this morning. And then there were the pack bonds—dozens of thin connections humming in the back of my mind, each one a pack member whose emotions and location I could vaguely sense.
Sleep? What was that again?
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Enter," I growled, wincing at how easily
