Unknown pov
“ Agghh fuc* him! That little piece of s**t!”
Groaning, I storm into my room to look down at my half-cut arm. My wolf has healed it to stop the blood, but my arm couldn't be put back.
Those useless doctors can’t do one thing right.
A bunch of morons!
I stand before the floor-length mirror and tug on my shirt material to rip it off. My burned, scarred skin comes into view.
My entire right arm and half of my chest are burned. The skin is hideous, thick and damaged beyond repair.
I wrap gauze around my cut arm, and every second I spend tending to it makes me seethe in rage for that bastard kid.
I swear I would have strangled him to death and then ripped his body into so many pieces that no one would recognise him.
If it wasn't for him.
Zachary.
That fuc*er! Who does he
