Chris's POV
I can't stop pacing around the living room. My fists are clenched, my teeth grinding together. I want to punch something—someone. Alpha Dylan, to be precise. The rage boiling inside me is unbearable.
Caroline stands from the couch where she was sitting beside my father and places a hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off like it burns. I storm over to the wall and start pounding my fists into it. I hear Caroline scream behind me, telling me to stop, but I can’t. I won’t. Not even when my knuckles split and smear blood across the wall.
Not even when the pain shoots up my arms and my vision blurs. The wall becomes Dylan’s face. And that b***h’s too. This is what I’m going to do to them when I see them—make them bleed like I did.
Then a hand grabs my shoulder, yanks me back. Bef
