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“But you didn’t even try,” Phelan screamed. His fist clenched at his side in rage as he threw out his accusations. “You would rather coddle your damn vampire than stand behind the needs of your own people.”
Confusion and concern creased Rupert’s brow. This was unlike his friend. Phelan liked Darien. He had also understood Rupert’s position in the past. It was bizarre he would take such a stance now. “Phelan?” Rupert asked as he reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder.
As the hand made contact, Phelan shrieked in rage and slung his fist into Rupert’s face, staggering the man back. Red colored Phelan’s vision as he tore out of his coat and leaped at his alpha. His mind spun with hate and rage, driving all thought out of his head. The smell of blood on Rupert’s split lip made Phelan’s blood boil. His wolf ripped through his skin, shredding his shirt.
Staggering away from his attacking friend, Rupert threw his arm up just in time to stop the sharp teeth from reaching the delicate skin of his throat. Shocked by the sudden attack, he yelled out as he fell backwards under the weight of the wolf. He lay on the ground, stunned by the sudden violence, as Phelan mauled the sleeve of his jacket. The outburst was unlike anything Rupert had ever seen from his second. The unprovoked attack reminded him of the problems they were having with the pack, and sorrow filled his heart as he gathered his thoughts enough to start fighting back. It wasn’t fear of death or injury that pained Rupert, it was the dread of having to hurt or kill one of his closest friends.