Breeana exhaled, her breath clouded the glass. She wrote Mel in the small patch of moisture and encased his name inside a heart. He would be awake by now. Probably getting ready to go hunting.
Her stomach clenched as if a giant fist had closed around it, squeezing.
She sniffed, catching her faint reflection in the glass. When she saw the sparkle of tears and the dead look in her eyes, her hands curled into tight fists as anger blazed through her.
“I hope you're as miserable as me you rotten son-of-a-bitch! I hope you feel as dead inside—as destroyed—as I do.”
Her face crumpled and she hugged her middle, trying to hold herself together, but it didn't work. Great wracking sobs tore from her throat.
Rage edged around the pain. Abruptly, her sobs turned to screams. She pounded her fists against the glass, then furiously smeared his name. “You bastard! How could you do this to me? How could you—”
