DAMON POINT OF VIEW.

“Goddamit!” Rage has a rhythm.

It builds low at first, quiet, controlled, almost reasonable. Then it climbs, tightening the chest, sharpening the breath, until it becomes something that demands release.

By the time I left Shadowfang’s gates, I was well past restraint.

My horse barely felt the ground beneath its hooves as I rode toward Lucian’s territory. The wind cut hard across my face, but it did nothing to cool the heat burning behind my ribs.

Her words ...