_Thessaly’s POV_
The cool night air did nothing to calm the inferno of rage burning in my chest as I stood in the mansion’s garden, my manicured nails digging into my palms. The humiliation Cyric Feymere had subjected me to—in front of everyone, no less—replayed in my mind like a broken record, each word stoking the flames of my fury higher.
How dare he.
How dare that arrogant Alpha speak to me like I was some common pack w***e, all because of that manipulative b***h Zarelle. The way he'd looked at me with such disdain, as if I were something disgusting he'd scraped off his shoe, made my skin crawl with a mixture of shame and murderous intent.
But even as the rage threatened to consume me, a voice whispered warnings in the back of my mind. I couldn't afford to lose control he
