A surge of anger forces me off my chair, hearing it crash to the floor behind me as I spin around and glare at the source of the words against Rissa.
“The old beta’s daughter should be the one controlling herself,” I snap at the older she-wolf who sits at the table. She might be one of Amelia’s friends, but she has no right to speak against Rissa.
Especially not in her absence, or my presence.
“You will not breathe a word against my mate,” I warn the woman with a pointed finger, my nostrils flaring with a new bout of anger. “The only reason Amelia is dead is because of Laura. And if anyone speaks a word against my mate, I will throw you in the dungeon with Laura. Don’t forget that!”
Furious now, I don’t wish to be around anyone who speaks ill of my mate, and I kick the chair away from me before storming out of the hall and catching my breath outside.
The night air is still warm from all the sun it received during the day, but it isn’t what I need right now.
What I do need is between the four walls of my house, and I march my way there, not looking back at the scene of tonight’s crime. There seems to be a lot of that happening recently, and I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I do now.
I only have myself to thank, since I’ve been blocking Rissa out. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s already been through so much.
As soon as I’m home, I shut the door behind me and tug on my tie to loosen it from my throat, wanting to relish in the sanctity of my four walls, but finding that something is still missing.
I’ve walked down this path of loss before when I lost both my parents, but what I felt back then pales in comparison to what I feel right now.
It’s only because I found my fated mate, and not having her around while I deal with this all by myself feels wrong.
I miss her.
Taking a deep breath, I call out to my mate.
“Rissa! Rissa, where are you?” The pain in my voice is evident, and spurs me into action as I go off in search of her.
But after looking everywhere in the house for her, I realize why the place feels so empty. She isn’t home yet. It means she’s still at the pack den, using her magic for good.
I don’t deserve her.
This pack doesn’t deserve her compassion when people still speak ill of her after everything she’s done to keep them safe. Shaking with the anger I feel because of all the mistreatment Rissa has had to face, I go off in search of her, knowing I’ll find her working overtime again.
“Rissa,” I call out when I near the pack den. The only light near the building is the one emitting from behind it—a distinct but dim green light.
She doesn’t respond, and I find her pooling her magic into the trapping device, focused on her task until all of her power is charged into the gadget. When the light flickers off, her shoulders slump with the exhaustion she must be feeling from working so hard.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
“Brooks!” Rissa gasps as she turns around, clutching a hand to her neck as if I’d startled her. She must still be reeling from what happened with Laura; that’s why she’s skittish now.
What’s worse is that I can see how hard she’s been working from the dark circles beneath her eyes. Even her faceis sunken, as if she’s hardly been getting any rest or anything to eat.
“What are you doing to yourself?!” I suddenly exclaim, shaking my head in disbelief. Has she even taken a look at herself in a mirror lately?
This is not the Rissa I know.
“What am I doing to myself?” she snaps back, her brows knitting with her sudden irritation. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”
“You don’t have to do any of this!” I yell out in exasperation, taking a step forward when Rissa takes one back as if she’s suddenly become wary of me. Frowning, I stare at her harshly, taken aback by her reception. “Have you seen what you look like? I don’t understand why you’re doing this!”
“You don’t understand?” Rissa scoffs as she rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest. I notice the nail on her index finger is chipped, only further driving in the point that she’s been working too hard. “This needs to be done, Brooks.”
“You’ve done enough already!” I shout, hoping she’d just give up and go back home with me. It’s like she’s trying to prove herself by working harder, but she doesn’t need to.
But it’s as if my words come out too harsh and are misinterpreted when she frowns and unfolds her arms, her shoulders slouched forward as if in defeat.
“Yeah, I know I’ve done enough already. I’m the one who got that woman killed. It’s my fault,” she blurts, tears pooling in her eyes. “I get the message loud and clear.”
