ALARIC’S POV
I stood in the middle of my room, shirtless, the cold air brushing against my skin, but I barely felt it. The full moon cast a pale glow over the vast room, it’s light illuminating the faint scars on my chest, each one a reminder of a past I could never escape. The champagne glass in my hand was nearly empty, the coolness of the crystal grounding me as I stared out of the massive window. The city lights flickered in the distance, a deceptive beauty that mocked the darkness within me.
As the alcohol slid down my throat, bitter and sharp, my mind drifted—no, it was yanked—back to that night. The night that shattered everything.
The house had been eerily silent when I returned, an unnatural stillness that made my wolf stir uneasily. The scent of blood hit me first—thick, meta
