Your younger brother, Liam, had been in his room for hours, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. You'd noticed him heading there earlier, his face tight with frustration, but you decided to give him some space.

It wasn't unusual for him to need time to cool off — his IED had always been a challenge, especially since the whole werewolf thing came into play.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the house, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was coming from Liam's room.

Without hesitation, you bolted up the stairs, the sound of something heavy hitting the wall spurring you on faster. The door to Liam's room was slightly ajar, and as you pushed it open, your heart sank.

Liam stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving. His nightstand was overturned, the lamp shattered on the floor. A chair lay on its side, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

His eyes were glowing, the familiar golden hue of his wolf side peeking through — a sign he was losing control, and fast.

A growl slipped from his throat, low and threatening, as his hands trembled. His gaze flickered toward you, but it was like he didn’t even register you standing there.