Chapter 8

Draven’s POV

I slipped from Thea’s bed before dawn, my skin crawling with self-loathing. Her naked body lay sprawled across sheets that reeked of our coupling, yet left me hollow. Every night I’d spent buried inside her had been another betrayal—not of her, but of myself.

Maeve’s ghost haunted me even as I thrust into another woman. Her taste lingered on my tongue like a curse. Her phantom touch burned hotter than Thea’s flesh against mine. I was being devoured from within, my sanity shredding with each passing hour.

The training field ran red with blood this morning. I broke three ribs of my second-in-command, nearly tore out a throat before catching myself. The shower couldn’t wash away the rage. My office walls closed in around me, these reports swimming before my eyes—meaningless pack politics while my soul is being ripped apart.

Ryker clawed at my skull, his howls deafening. He was not just pacing; he was tearing himself to pieces, throwing himse