Zeph's POV
I'm spiraling and I know it but I can't stop, can't think straight, can't do anything except replay the image of Kestrel covered in blood over and over in my mind. My fist connects with the wall again and the plaster cracks, chunks falling to the floor. My knuckles are bleeding but I don't feel it, don't feel anything except rage and fear and guilt all twisted together into something that's eating me alive from the inside out.
"Zeph, stop it," my mother says, grabbing my arm before I can punch the wall again. Her voice is firm but there's pain in her eyes, worry etched into every line of her face. "You need to calm down before you hurt yourself."
"Calm down?" I snarl, whirling to face her. "He tried to kill her. My own father tried to murder my mate. How the f**k am I suppose
