Mai's P.O.V.
"Mai." My father's voice was firm, steady—a command wrapped in quiet authority. "You must calm down."
I stood there, chest heaving, my nails biting into my palms as I clenched my fists. The whispers in my head slithered through my mind like venomous snakes, hissing, laughing, taunting. I wanted to scream, to tear at the earth beneath me until I found Liam, until I had him back where he belonged—next to me.
But then, I felt it—my father's hand on my shoulder. It wasn't soft or gentle; it was grounding. A reminder.
"Do not lose control," he said, his voice low but laced with a warning. "You know what happens when you do."
I swallowed hard, forcing down the rage that boiled in my veins, and nodded.
My father turned to the gathered werewolves, their faces a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Everyone, go home," he ordered. "This is a very serious matter, and I will handle it with just as much seriousness."
