Oliver's POV
I took a plain, dark motorcycle from the back of the garage, the engine roaring like the beast inside my chest. Every red light I ran felt like a countdown to my own destruction. My mind was a mess of images: Aurora's sweet smile this morning, followed by that picture of her sitting across from a stranger.
I arrived at the club in record time. I didn't park; I just dropped the bike near the entrance and threw the keys to the bouncer, who froze when he saw my mask. I didn't say a word. I didn't have to. The aura of Raymond was cold, sharp, and deadly.
I barged into the club, the heavy doors swinging open with a bang. The music was a low, thumping hum, but it felt like a hammer against my skull. I didn't have to look hard. My wolf found her scent instantly—vanilla and rain, now mixed with the stale smell of expensive cigars and sex.
