Chapter 102. One of Ours

Rico stormed out of Calla’s house like the walls themselves had offended him, the door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. The night air hit his face cold and sharp, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside his chest.

His breathing was uneven, his jaw locked so tight it ached, and his hands kept twitching at his sides like they were still searching for her throat.

His chest felt tight and heavy, like something was sitting on it, crushing every steady thought he tried to form. Rage flooded him in waves, and it had nowhere to go. He took a few steps away from the house, then stopped, his vision blurring as the pressure inside him demanded release. Without thinking, he turned and slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

Once.

Sharp pain exploded through his knuckles, but it only fed the fury. He hit it again, and again, and again. His skin split, blood smeared against the concrete, but he didn’t stop. He welcomed the pain, needed it, ne