Varg's Pov

Lucian’s grip on my shoulder was firm but grounding, and for a moment, it pulled me out of the storm raging in my head. The room was quiet except for my heavy breaths and the faint hum of the light above. The broken remains of the punching bag lay scattered across the floor, mocking my failure to keep it together.

“Varg,” Lucian said, his voice calm and filled with sympathy, “you’ve got to talk to me. This, whatever this is, it’s not like you.”

I clenched my jaw, my fists still aching from the force of my blows. Talking wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t bring her back. But...