26. Threats

Yorgan's fists clenched around the grimy glass, each finger a vise of fury, the cheap whiskey inside sloshing like a tempest in miniature. The dim lights of the local bar bled into one another, blurred by anger, jealousy, and a deep, unhealed wound that festered within his very soul. Laughter and raucous jokes punctuated the air. Pack members reveling in one another's company, but those sounds were mere distant echoes to Yorgan. They were foreign, unwelcome, jarring against the symphony of pain that played ceaselessly in his mind.

The name, "Gideon," seemed to hover in the air. A spectral blade that twisted in Yorgan's heart, turning the very sound into an instrument of torment. It was Gideon who had taken everything from him, who had orchestrated the grand tragedy of his life. Yorgan's wife, his beloved, was gone, replaced by an aching void that no drink could fill. Now his daughter had been taken too, becoming Luna, and it was all Gideon's fault.

He took another swig of the burning