Zique’s steps were slow as he walked towards the door. He had suffered himself enough, too much. The reason he had done what he had was for the pack and yet he was neglecting them by regretting his actions.

He lived, he should be proud, but what was there to really be proud of?

If he hadn’t doubted the bond he shared with Kiara, he would’ve known the curse was broken and the pain he had forced her through wouldn’t have been necessary. But still, was that enough for her to try killing him?

Yes, he had been harsh, he called her useless, told her to reject him...but...but...

Zique clenched his jaws, twisting at the knob. He should just forget about it, the memories of that night, he should never bring them up again. They had been torturous enough; that look of rebellion that had been in her eyes, that strong scent of vengeance that had drifted from her, it was enough to throw him in a pit of agony.

This all needed to stop, this struggle to be happy needed to come to an end. There was no