TYLER.
The door slammed shut behind him, rattling the old wood, and the walls of his office trembled. Tyler paced furiously, the sound of his boots thudding against the hardwood floor sharp and crisp in the silence like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. His fists clenched at his sides, the veins in his forearms bulging with every sharp intake of breath. Every muscle in his body was taut with rage, coiled tight, ready to snap.
Chloe. Adrian. His lips twisted into a snarl at the thought of them together. She was supposed to be his. His fingers flexed, itching to grab something, to break something, to destroy something, or someone. How dare she—how dare they—humiliate him like that, defy him in front of his own betas. The sting of his defeat clung to him like the scent of blood in the
