My fingers tightened around the broken crown, the dried petals crumbling further in my grip.
Lily had just cried herself into trembling fits because of him. Her own father hadn't spared her a single thought, hadn't even checked if her fragile lungs could handle such distress.
But that woman was afraid of a little thunder, and he couldn't get to her fast enough.
Before I could respond, Alaric was already at the den's entrance.
He shifted his cloak onto his shoulders. Grabbed his Alpha medallion from its hook. Checked his reflection in the polished obsidian mirror by the door.
Every movement smooth and practiced. Not a trace of hesitation. Not a flicker of regret.
The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, and I felt the last threads of our mating bond grow cold and silent.
The den fell into a quiet so complete it felt like death itself had crept inside.
The tension drained from my spine all at once. I crumpled onto the woven carpet, my legs giving out beneath me, the ruined crown still clutched against my chest.
I didn't want to cry, but my eyes burned and swelled with unshed tears.
This past year had wrung me dry. There was nothing left to give.