DRAVEN
My hand shot out and closed around her throat before she could finish the sentence. I slammed her back against the wall hard enough to rattle the gilt-framed paintings, hard enough that I felt the impact shudder through both of us. She gasped, her eyes going wide, her hands scrabbling at my wrist.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snarled, my voice dropping to something barely human. My wolf was snarling beneath my skin, furious at the disrespect, at the audacity of a lower-rank putting hands on me. "You struck me. Your Alpha. That is treason, Morgana."
She tried to speak, but my grip was too tight. Her face was turning red, her nails digging into my arm, but I didn't care. Couldn't care. The humiliation of being slapped in front of the High Alpha, of being screamed at like I was some insubordinate gamma, had ignited something primal and vicious in me.
