His jaw tightened. “Oh, you’re bringing that up again? It wasn’t a betrayal, Freya. How many times do I have to tell you? It was to help her, to help the future of our ally and the pack.”
“That’s bullshit! Do you hear yourself?” My voice was rising, and I could feel the heat on my face. Around us, people were murmuring, their attention shifting away from the ceremony. The proud parents, the pups—forgotten. Thorne had a way of doing that, making everything about him.
I shook my head, trying to steady myself. “I don’t want to argue, Thorne. There’s a ceremony happening. Show some respect.”
“You’re backing away,” he said, stepping closer.
“I’m not, I just—”
“That’s exactly how you are. Always running when things get hard.”
I didn’t want to hear it. This conversation was pointless. He wasn’t going to listen. He never did.
“Come on, tell me, Freya.” His voice was low, mocking. “Did I really hurt you so badly that it made you kill our son?”
Tears stung my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. The audacity of him—to call my son his!
“Shut up,” I hissed.
“What?”