Briar
"Sleep tight, you bastard," I muttered, before turning my attention to the task at hand.
My eyes scanned the room, landing on a small table knife sitting next to a half-eaten fruit plate. I grabbed it, the metal cool against my palm. Taking a deep breath, I gently took Eric's limp hand and turned it palm up.
With a quick, decisive motion, I dragged the knife across Eric's palm. Blood welled up immediately, dark and rich in the dim light of the room. I fumbled in my pocket for the small glass bottle Mia had given me earlier, uncorking it with shaking hands.
As I held the bottle to Eric's cut, collecting the precious drops of Alpha blood, I couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, in the middle of the night, bleeding the man I was supposed to marry to
