Aziel drove through the gates of his pack, the tyres of his car crunching harshly against the gravel driveway as he sped through. The engine was cut off, leaving only the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing inside the silent cabin. His hands were still gripped so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles were white, his knuckles aching from the sheer tension locked into his body.
He stepped out into the crisp night air, slamming the car door shut behind him. Every muscle in his frame was coiled tight, heavy with a volatile mixture of humiliation, fear, and suffocating rage. He marched up the steps leading to his house, his heavy footsteps echoing off the walls as he pushed through the double doors.
