Alaric's POV
I released Roxanne immediately. Her high heels clicked sharply against the floor, confirming she'd landed safely without me needing to glance away from Lyra's face. My eyes stayed locked on hers, unable to sever the connection even as everything crumbled around me.
I watched a tempest of emotions sweep across her features. Pure rage. Searing jealousy. Profound, slicing agony. My chest tightened as I observed her shake her head in disbelief. She whirled around and fled from the locker room, leaving me standing there with my head bowed in shame.
"What a pathetic little sneak," Roxanne hissed behind me. I raised my gaze to fix her with a lethal glare.
"Leave," I ordered, my voice carrying a menacing undertone that made weaker wolves bow down.
"Excuse me?" Roxanne's tone turned razor-sharp with offense. She moved closer, her palm gliding down my abdomen toward my belt. "We're not finished here."
