The shattered glass of my car windshield reflected my broken state of mind. I stared at the wreckage – the result of my fist smashing through it less than an hour ago in a fit of rage and desperation. Blood still dripped from my knuckles, but I couldn't feel the pain. Not when something much deeper was tearing me apart from the inside.
I stood in the driveway of the pack house, unable to move. Part of me wished I hadn't survived the accident earlier. Death would be easier than living with this emptiness where Elara should be.
My mate. My rejected mate.
The one I'd pushed away with my own cruelty, my own arrogance, my own stupidity.
I forced myself to walk toward the house, each step heavier than the last. I'd never felt this way before – so utterly defeated. The great Alpha Rhys Knight, brought to his knees by his own mistakes.
The door opened before I could reach for it. My mother stood there, her expression shifting from casual welcome to alarm as she took in my appearance.
