For a moment, I thought I saw something—his eyes softening, guilt maybe? Regret? But then he said quietly, like he was reasoning with a child, “It’s just one festival. It’s not worth crying over. I’ll be there next year, I promise.”
Next year. He didn’t even realize what he’d said. Or what it meant.
I yanked my arm free, venom dripping from my words. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Shock flickered across his face. He wasn’t used to me pulling away, to me standing up for myself. But tonight? I was done.
He reached for me again, but before he could, Vivian clung to his arm.
“I think Sis Izara’s upset because I’m taking you away from her son,” she cooed, her voice thick with fake sweetness. “She must be mad because Kallias is faking his illness, and now—”
The room tilted. Faking? My son? My Kallias?
Her words hit me like a freight train, knocking the air from my lungs. My vision blurred. My pulse roared in my ears. And before I even realized it, my hand cracked across her face.
The slap echoed through the room like a gunshot. Vivian’s head snapped to the side, and for a moment, she just stared at me, wide-eyed and stunned.
“Say that again,” I hissed, my voice low, trembling with barely contained fury. “Say it again, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Izara's POV
Alpha Mavros’s glare pinned me down like a predator ready to pounce. “What the hell is wrong with you, Izara? Have you forgotten she’s your sister?” His voice was low, cutting, sharp enough to pierce through armor.
But I didn’t flinch. My focus stayed locked on Vivian, her tear-streaked face doing nothing to chip away at the satisfaction thrumming in my chest. She deserved it. Every bit of it.
I leveled her with a stare colder than ice. “Think carefully about what you’re accusing, Vivian,” I said, my voice sharp and unforgiving.
Vivian clutched her cheek, tears streaming as she whimpered, “I’m sorry, Sis Izara. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Alpha Mavros... but Kallias is faking his illness.”
Her words slammed into me like a wrecking ball. My chest tightened, rage bubbling up until it spilled over. Faking his illness? My Kallias? My son?
I didn’t even realize I’d raised my hand again until Mavros’s grip clamped around my wrist. “Don’t hurt your sister again,” he growled, his voice edged with warning.