Hundred and seventy-seven

That witch!

How ungrateful could she be? Despite all the warnings about their lives being connected, she still wanted to end hers—not just hers, but the lives of their children within her.

Of course, Sandro understood her pain, feeling a similar, if not greater, agony.

He and Blaze had shared a deep bond; Blaze was more than a friend and Beta; he was a brother and a relied-upon family.

Blaze was everything to him, and his death was still surreal. He didn't want to believe he had died, but he had seen him lifeless, cold, and not smiling.

If Arabella were to die, how could he seek the revenge he so much desired? As their life was intertwined, he was going to fuking die as well.

Sandro's fists pounded the punching bag even harder, growls escaping him as he noticed blood on his hands. Yet, he didn't relent. Since leaving the room, he relentlessly struck the bag, channeling his frustration away from Arabella.

He didn't want to get mad at her, but with the way she was acting, he doubted he