An Alpha's Broken Trust, A Witch's Awakening Fury

Rhys stormed out of Rowan's dorm, each step fueled by a rage so cold it numbed everything else. Students scattered from his path like frightened animals, pressing themselves against walls to avoid his wrath. I didn't care. I didn't see them. I saw nothing but the images burned into my brain—Elara in another man's bed, wearing his shirt, marked by him.

The campus blurred around me as I walked blindly, bumping shoulders with faceless people who wisely kept their complaints to themselves. My phone vibrated in my pocket for the third time. Ignoring it was pointless; my father would keep calling until I answered.

I yanked it out, my grip so tight I nearly cracked the screen.

"What?" My voice cut through the air like ice.

"Rhys?" My father's authoritative voice came through the speaker. "Where are you? The meeting with the Northern packs resumes in an hour, and you're the representative of—"

"I'll be there," I interrupted, my tone devoid of emotion.