(POV Rhea)
The night air still swirled in from the window that had been forced open, carrying the smell of rusted iron and distant rain. Callum stood firm between me and the apartment door, his body taut, his eyes glowing faint gold—the telltale sign that the wolf inside him was about to burst free.
Another slam shook the door, harder this time. The wood cracked wider, as if one more hit would take it down completely.
“I’m counting to three, Rhea,” Callum said quietly but coldly, his gaze never leaving the door. “If it breaks, don’t think, don’t scream, don’t look back. Run straight to the kitchen, grab whatever you can as a weapon. Got it?”
I couldn’t speak—only nodded. My hands were shaking violently.
Callum glanced at me briefly. “Good. Your breathing’s too fast. Focus. Inhale, let
