08

Miguel's POV:

My room was a mess – shattered glass, broken furniture, and the remnants of my unleashed fury scattered everywhere. The echoes of my roars still resonated in my ears as I paced restlessly. The scent of fresh blood lingered in the air, a reminder of the physical toll my emotional turmoil had taken on me.

As I stood there, my wolf howling in frustration, I felt a familiar presence at the doorway. It was my mother, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and understanding. She cautiously entered, stepping over the debris, and approached me with a measured calmness.

"Miguel, my son," she began softly, her voice carrying a soothing undertone that contrasted with the chaos around us. "I know this is hard for you, but you must find a way to cope with your feelings."

I glared at her, my inner turmoil still simmering beneath the surface. "How can I, Mother?" I snapped. "She's there, right in front of me, but I'm not allowed to claim her. To be near her. It's tearing me apart."

S