Lyra thought surely, surely, even Fenris would see reason after hearing this. But his anger only intensified. The disgust in his eyes scraped across her face like a blade as he spat each word: "Lyra, stop twisting the truth! Selene is your half-sister. She's been nothing but good to you, and you treat her like this? Doesn't your conscience hurt?"
"They're just some worthless trophies—what do you think they're worth?" His voice dripped with disdain. "Your reputation is already destroyed. The entire howl-network knows you're nothing but a heat-mad she-wolf who'll spread her legs for any rogue. What good are those trophies to you now? You might as well let Selene use them—at least they'd serve some purpose!"
Heat-mad she-wolf.
The words drove through her chest like a poisoned blade.
Fenris didn't spare a glance at Lyra's ashen face or her trembling body. He swept Selene into his arms and strode toward the door, his voice urgent: "Don't worry, Selene. I'm taking you to the healers right now. It won't scar."
The chamber fell silent. Only the ruined broth and scattered wooden shards remained. Lyra stood frozen, the blood in her veins turned to ice, his vicious words echoing in her skull.