Ethan's Point of View
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and stale whiskey. Shadows danced on the walls, flickering in the light of a single, guttering candle. The heavy oak desk in front of me was cluttered with maps, documents, and several empty bottles. My hands trembled as I poured another glass of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the desk. I barely noticed. I was too consumed by the rage boiling inside me, a black, seething anger that threatened to tear me apart. How dare she? How dare they? Aria, Khalessi, all of them. They thought they could defy me, that they could stand against me. They were wrong. They were all wrong.
"Alpha," a voice said, cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I looked up, my vision swimming, to see Marcus standing in the doorway. My Beta, my best friend, and my right hand. He looked worried, his brow furrowed, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
