The sharp crack of Harland’s palm against my cheek reverberated through the room, freezing me in place. For a moment, the world lost its shape—the murmurs of the crowd faded into nothing, and all I could process was the searing pain spreading across my skin. But the sting wasn’t just physical. It was the cold, merciless look in his eyes that cut deeper than any slap ever could. The man I had once trusted, the man for whom I had given up everything, had just struck me as if I were nothing. Not his Luna. Not his mate. Just something disposable.
Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I swallowed them down. I refused to break in front of him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. But the weight in my chest was unbearable—months, years of silent suffering pressing down on me, suffocating me.
“Avery!” Harland’s voice snapped through the silence like a whip, sharp and full of accusation. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out. The entire room had gone deathly quiet, all eyes locked onto me, yet their judgment paled in comparison to the pure rage burning in Harland’s gaze.