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SEVENTY-EIGHT | COMPASS

Atticus

“So… No. No, I don’t think I could ever love him.”

That was what she’d said. Lily. After everything he’d done for her – even going so far as to send that damned letter to Alpha Nobody – she saw no future for them. He’d saved her, brought her home, reunited her with her family…

He clenched his hands into fists as he stormed away. Veins bulged in his arms.

“Oh,” Lily whispered. He could just picture her, a delicate hand flying up to cover her pretty mouth. The yearning inside him burned hot, a smouldering ball of rage and desire making his skin prickle.

He wrenched a handful of citrine bunting down and tore it to shreds. It glittered dully as it tumbled slowly to the ground. His heart was a compass, the needle spinning wildly in all directions. Did he love her? Did he hate her? He hated that he loved her, and he hated that, even now, she still wasn’t truly his. She was all he had thought about for months, and though there were glimpses of her heart warming to him in her burnin
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