Liam's POV (Two years after Scarlett fake death)
Two years.
Two years had passed since we lowered an empty casket into the red dirt of the North Woods. Two years since the light in the mansion went out, replaced by a cold silence that reeked of whiskey and grief. We were no longer the vibrant young Alphas the pack once admired. We were statues. Stone-faced, efficient, and utterly hollow.
The Hall, once a place of celebration, felt like a courtroom today. I stood by the window, my back to the room, staring out at the forest where my soul had died.
"Never, Father!" I roared, the sound vibrating in my chest. I turned around, my eyes glowing with a dangerous, unstable fury. "I am not marrying Camilla. I've told those women to leave this packhouse more times than I can count. My brothers and I are not getting married to them!"
