Third person's POV
Tabitha bent down, removing her shoes and socks. She planned to take a rest.
This scene didn't escape Misha's notice. Her face turned pale with rage, her features twisting in anger.
Inside Misha's chest, a fire of jealousy and resentment burned fiercely.
She couldn't stand the sight of Tabitha sharing a bed with Derek.
"What do you think you're doing, you shameless b*tch?" Misha shouted, her voice sharp.
Tabitha blinked slowly, her face a picture of innocence.
She tilted her head and replied, "As you can see, I'm tired. I'm going to rest."
"How can you sleep in the same bed as Derek?" Misha stomped her feet, fists clenched, as if she were about to yank Tabitha off the bed at any moment.
Her eyes burned with hatred and frustration. In her mind, Tabitha had no right to be so close to Derek.
Tabitha sighed, her expression growing even more helpless. She spread her hands and said, "It's not like I want to, but he won't let me go."
As she spoke, Tabitha carefully lay down, her eyes half-closed.
She added in a low, almost teasing voice, "And why are you so worked up, Miss Dalton? It's not just sharing a bed—we've done far more intimate things. What does it have to do with you?"
Her words struck Misha like a dagger, leaving her speechless.
Misha struggled to respond, finally spitting out, "You're divorced! You shouldn't keep clinging to him."
"Sorry, Miss Dalton, but you've got it wrong. I'm not the one clinging here," Tabitha shot back, her eyes flashing with defiance.
Just then, Rolf hurried into the room, carrying a blanket.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, showing how rushed he'd been.
"Tabitha, I brought the blanket. Get some rest. You've had a long night," Rolf said gently, handing her the blanket. His eyes were full of concern.
Rolf knew how important Tabitha was to Derek.
Even though they had rejected each other, he still treated her as the Luna of the Black Thorn Pack.
Misha, hearing Rolf's words, couldn't hold back her frustration.
"What has she even done to be tired?" she snapped.
In Misha's eyes, Tabitha hadn't done anything for Derek.
Rolf ignored Misha's outburst. He carefully tucked the blanket around Tabitha, then turned to explain, "Just standing for so long has been exhausting for her. She's not as strong as you, Miss Dalton, always running around and busy…"
Before Rolf could finish, Misha lost control.
She kicked him hard in the shin and yelled, "Who's strong? Say that again! And why didn't you bring me a blanket too?"
"Why are you even here?" Rolf muttered under his breath, rubbing his sore leg.
Misha, even angrier now, kicked him again, harder this time.
Tabitha, sitting on the bed, watched the chaos unfold. Her patience snapped. "Get out, all of you! Can't you let him rest?" she said, her voice low but commanding.
[$]
Misha, about to retaliate, suddenly froze. Her blood seemed to turn to ice.
Her pupils contracted into the vertical slits characteristic of wolves, and golden patterns flickered at the edges of her irises—a sign that a top-tier Alpha was about to unleash their dominance.
"You…" Misha's neck gland throbbed painfully. Her instincts forced her to take a step back.
The air filled with the icy scent of snow and the sharp tang of burning niter.
It was a dual-layered pressure that reminded Misha of the ancient Alpha bloodline. Still, Tabitha's presence was far more overwhelming.
A low growl rumbled in Tabitha's throat, and silver claws extended from her fingertips. "I said, get out," she hissed, her voice cracking like a whip.
With that final word, the air in the room seemed to freeze. The IV bag on the wall creaked under the pressure.
Misha's knees buckled against her will—a primal instinct to submit to a superior Alpha.
At that moment, Misha felt a chill run down her spine. Tabitha's gaze reminded her eerily of Derek's.
Rolf, intimidated by Tabitha's aura, didn't dare move.
He glanced at Misha, who stubbornly refused to leave, and decided not to push it. He quietly slipped out of the room.