Avery’s POV
Gideon’s fingers twisted in my hair, pulling me upright. My head tipped back, exposing my throat.
”Now,” Gideon leaned closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek, “Let’s talk about punishment.”
I didn’t like where this was going. I tried to look him in the face, the whites of my eyes showing, but he pulled harder and I couldn’t look at him properly from this angle.
“What is the role of violence in a pack?” He asked.
I struggled to think of an answer. Violence had always been something that came to me by virtue of who I was, not what I’d done.
My father had reached for violence the way others reached for a cigarette. He craved it, and it soothed him.
My violence had always been a defense mechanism. Something I used when all my other options were gone.
Did Gideon w
