Third Person's POV
Mortimer just threw him a freezing, lethal glare.
Wilmot shrugged, completely unfazed.
It wasn't like he was the one about to end up single.
Oh, wait, he almost forgot—his own mate had just filed for a forced arbitration to dissolve their mating a few days ago.
Thinking about this, Wilmot instantly wiped the smirk off his face, leaned back into the shadows of the booth, and went back to sulking. He was officially checked out of the whole "Save Vivian" project.
Right then, Mortimer, who had just slammed back several stiff drinks, crashed his crystal glass hard against the solid marble coffee table.
"Bang!"
The sharp sound of breaking glass cut right through the heavy bass of the speakers.
The high-ranking wolves around him jumped, throwing anxious, confused looks
