Finn
Five years since I walked away from her, letting my pride and hatred blind me.
From my position on the pack house balcony, I watched young wolves sparring on the training grounds below. Their laughter felt out of place, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.
“You’re brooding again," David remarked with a hint of displeasure as he approached, carrying two glasses of whiskey. “Third night this week.”
I accepted the offered drink without turning. “I’m not brooding.”
“Right.” He leaned against the railing. “And I suppose you’re staring at nothing in particular, not thinking about your mate and how she rejected you, right?”
The glass cracked in my grip. “Shut up, David. If you have nothing good to say, just keep quiet and don’t add to my anger.”
David set his drink down,
