Lone Wolf ☆a Wulf Pack Novel Book 1☆✔

Chapter Forty-two

*Crunch!*

Rage didn't make a sound as he pulled his fist from the plaster wall. He didn't care about the bleeding as he leaned his head on the wall, forearms taking the brunt of his weight.

He didn't care that the blood from his knuckles was dripping down his arm, swirling and twisting as it left spots on the white wall and dripped onto the cream carpet.

He didn't care that the people left in the room, the ones that had not fled at the feral growl he produced upon hearing the news.

The same news that had been reported for the last four weeks: nothing.

How was it that nothing changed? How could they be so organized that not a thing has changed in six weeks?

"Rage," Wrath's hand clapped his shoulder, an unusual, comforting, gesture from his tough skinned brother, "maybe you should relax, get some sleep," Rage turned, taking in the sight of his younger brother's emotionless face. His eyes skimmed over the empty room before returning to his brother, frowning.

"And how can I do that? We are getting nowhere," the growl rumbled through the room didn't phase Wrath, he knew that despite his brother's frustration, he wasn't going to do anything.

"You scaring the shit out of people and punching holes in walls is not helping either," releasing a huff, he gripped his hair in both fists, knuckles bleeding anew.

"When was the last time you slept more than a few hours?" Rage only shook his head, he didn't know, probably back at the castle, "Brother, how... you can't..."

Wrath couldn't find the words, so many thoughts, too any to count.

"When was the last time you spoke with Willow?" He finally asked, deciding it best to not try to tell his brother what to do.

"Two days ago, maybe three,"

"Maybe you should call her, eat something and maybe take a nap," With another pat on the shoulder, Wrath left him standing in the empty room, fingers fisted in his hair.