One day earlier
I watched Shane for two seconds, my gaze locked on his face, and then I smashed both my hands on my office desk. A primal roar tore from my throat, my feral side howling at the injustice. The feeling was overwhelming, like being trapped in a storm, a tempest of rage and frustration. Shane's words echoed in my head, each one like a nail being hammered into my heart.
I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to.
The desk cracked in two, sending papers and pens flying around.
And it wasn't enough.
So I took a bottle of my finest whiskey from the side table and threw it against the wall. It crashed into million pieces, the amber liquid staining the white walls.
I didn't even bother to stop myself from half-turning into a wild beast that was my other form. My eyes were pitch
