Chapter 63

• Author's POV
• When Rose walked away, the air in Laura’s room seemed to thicken with the weight of her own fury. Her hands trembled—not from fear, but from the simmering heat of anger that refused to be contained. She had been certain Rose had sought her out just to gloat, to flash that quiet, pitiful smile while dangling Tristan’s affection in her face like some cruel prize. Tristan loved her, and they were dating. The thought alone was a blade turning in Laura’s chest.
• Her breath came hard and sharp, each inhale feeding the fire until it became too much. With a low growl, Laura spun toward her wardrobe and slammed her fist into the wooden door. The panel splintered under her werewolf strength with a loud, satisfying crack. Shards of wood clattered to the floor. She didn’t stop there—an open-handed shove sent clothes spilling out, hangers snapping, and a perfume bottle toppling and shattering against the ground. The sharp scent of roses filled the air, cloying and nauseating in the heat of her rage.