The Beta

XXVIII

*Rian*

I paced below Faye's window after realizing she wouldn't answer the door. Several tactics were running through my mind, but almost all of them involved jumping onto the roof to break into her room through the window. If she kept ignoring me, making my heart ache from the last expression I saw on her face, I might become crazy enough to do it. My temper was threatening to rise as my other side grew stormier with every passing minute.

Tonight was supposed to be the night I left my mark, the night I made her mine. I was more sure of that than anything else. So why had it not gone accordingly? And why did Faye say she knew what I was? How could she possibly know?

I tried calling her again. It went straight to voicemail. If she would just let me explain, she wouldn't have to be so scared! Faye was the one thing on this planet I knew I could never hurt. Not even if my temper got the best of me.

"Rian," a voice whispered in the dark.

The sound took me by surprise and I jumped.

"What's wrong with you?" It was Michael. "You never let people sneak up on you."

"You need to leave," I snarled.

"Whose house is this? You look like a crazy man pacing in their backyard."

"I'm not in the mood, Michael. If you don't leave, I might rip your throat out."

He blinked a few times. We both knew that wasn't an exaggeration. I felt a little guilty for letting my temper control my words like that, but this was a dire situation. My patience was running rapidly low, and his annoying presence didn't make things any better.

"Clearly, you need help—"

"Stop," I warned. "Don't say another word."

Of course, the idiot didn't listen. He deserved to get his butt kicked. My shoulders filled out as I stalked towards him. I could think of a million ways to make the life fade from his eyes. Fellow pack member or not, cousin or not, he'd pushed me to this point. I warned him. He didn't listen.

Just before I reached him, my hands tingling with the urge to wrap around his throat, Michael lifted a can of spray. The rage simmering through me prevented my instincts from kicking in. The can hissed when he pulled the trigger.

The pain registered before I realized what had happened. I stumbled backwards, my eyes burning, while my hands blindly reached around for that moron. He was dead. I was going to kill him.

Yet the moment my hands found purchase on his shirt, consciousness drained from my body.