“She insulted our son,” I said, each word cutting through the silence. “Our son, Lucian. And you let her?”
Lucian’s expression was unreadable, his cold eyes piercing into mine. “You’re making a scene,” he said, his tone devoid of empathy. “This behavior is beneath you.”
“Beneath me?” I repeated, my voice rising despite the lump forming in my throat. “You really think defending our child is beneath me? You’re standing there, protecting her—someone who has never cared about this family—and you call me the problem?”
Before Lucian could respond, hurried footsteps echoed through the den, cutting through the tense silence like a blade. Maron, Lucian’s right-hand warrior, appeared in the doorway, his face pale and etched with sorrow. His heavy gaze swept across the room, and the weight of his presence stilled everyone.
“Alpha,” Maron began, his voice thick with grief. “I bring grave news.”
The air grew suffocating, my heart pounding so violently it felt as though it might shatter. I already knew what he was about to say. Deep down, I had known since I left the healer’s den, but hearing the words out loud...