The ball continued, but the tension on my shoulders refused to ease. Laughter echoed through the grand ballroom, glasses clinked, and the orchestra played a soft waltz in the background. Yet, I felt as if I were standing at the edge of a battlefield, not a celebration.

Each time I'd turn in their direction and there would be something to piss me off. It's either Dante was whispering something to her and she was laughing or his hand was holding hers like she belonged to him.

My wolf was growling at the sight but I kept reminding myself that I didn't fucking care. But I almost lost it when his...