Chapter 37

Thomas opened his eyes, blinking slowly as his surroundings came into focus. His head pounded and he could smell the stale stench of whiskey wafting from his own breath. His back and neck ached, and he stretched, cracking them into place.

Another night spent sleeping in his office chair, lulled to sleep by the amber liquid sitting on the desk in front of him. He picked up the empty bottle and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter to pieces against the wall.

He’d had everything going for him, and in a matter of weeks his life had crumbled, turning to rubble around him. His mate was gone. Her body left to burn to ash as an enemy of the pack. No headstone or marker left for him to visit – not that there would be anything to put on a headstone, he didn’t even know her.