45. Cillian

The bloodied lump on the table had almost entirely regained his consciousness. “Where am I? What the fuck is this? Alpha Cillian?” Tange muttered, each statement panickier as he wriggled against his restraints.

I walked slowly towards him, aware of my heavy boots stomping. I wanted him to be scared. He deserves to be terrified.,

In my flattest, firmest tone I tried to convey the same authority my father had. I might be young but there is no doubt I wield the power of life and death over my pack members.

“Tange. It’s over. You’re getting one chance to tell me everything. I’m taking my wolf back regardless. I can do it with or without killing you.”

It took some accepting that I had caused all that damage. That mangled, bloodied face with a nose that resembled crushed tomatoes was the sole product of my unrestrained anger. I heard the soft footsteps of Briss as he stood watch at the arched doorway.

Tange’s eyes flashed between golden yellow, orange, and grey, two wolves battling for