Lyra's hand shot up. Her palm connected with his face in a sharp crack that rang through the quiet chamber. She was screaming now, all the rage and despair she'd bottled up finally erupting.
"Fenris, you're the only one who's ever hurt me! I want to reject this bond! Now! This instant! Immediately!"
The slap snapped his head to the side. His cheek burned. His eyes were wide with shock—he clearly hadn't expected her to be this resolute. He froze for several seconds, just opening his mouth to respond, when urgent knocking rattled the door.
A healer's assistant rushed in, speaking frantically to Fenris. "Alpha Blackmoor, Lady Selene Ashenvale in the next chamber says if she doesn't see you, she won't let anyone treat her wounds. She won't stop crying. Could you please go check on her?"
Fenris's body went rigid for just a moment—barely a heartbeat—before he rose to his feet. He turned to look at Lyra on her recovery bed, his tone carrying the hollow weight of a perfunctory reassurance.
"Lyra, let me go see Selene first. Make sure she gets her treatment. You rest here and don't overthink things."