ELENA'S POV:
His grip on me was unrelenting as he hauled me upstairs like I weighed nothing. No matter how much I kicked, screamed, or bit, Kane didn't falter. His hands were covered in bite marks, claw scratches deep enough to bleed, but he carried on as if none of it fazed him. His face was hard, his jaw tight, and his scent—goddess, his scent—still reeked of her, making my rage bubble over.
The worst part wasn't even the smell. It was that distant, feral glint in his eyes. He wasn't just Kane right now. It's his wolf, Zena, my wolf, confided bitterly. He's taken over.
