My phone buzzes.
I already know before I look. There's only one person who messages me from an unknown number in the middle of the night, and my whole body goes cold as I pull it out.
I do wish you'd stop hurting the girl, the message says. It's really quite painful to watch, and I've been watching. She cried on her way into the house tonight, you know. Just a little. You didn't see. I did.
My blood turns to ice. He was there. Tonight. At her house, in the dark, close enough to see her face when I couldn't, close enough to see her cry when she wouldn't let me see it. He was watching the whole thing, watching me push her away, and he found it amusing, and he was near enough to my mate to see the tears on her face, and I didn't smell him, didn't sense him, because I was too busy breaking
