“She’s offering you mercy, Lunessa. Stop being stubborn. And now you’re striking people? Really?”
He touched his cheek, unreadable. “Do as she asks. Myrielle deserves to be happy.”
I looked between them—the Alpha I had trusted with my heart and the woman who now smiled at my father’s suffering.
My vision blurred until both of them became distorted shapes. But my father… my father was still waiting.
Biting back a sob, I lowered myself to my knees.
Bang!
My forehead struck the stone tiles, pain exploding through my skull.
Blood trickled down my temple. I bowed again.
And again.
My voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken. “Please… I’m begging you… let my father have his ritual…”
The world dimmed at the edges.
From the bed, Myrielle’s lilting voice drifted out. “Draven, my ankle really hurts… will you massage it?”
Without looking at me—not even once—Draven knelt beside her and began to gently rub her foot.
Something inside me went utterly, completely silent.
Time passed in a blur.
Eventually, Draven finally lifted his head, frowning slightly as though annoyed by the sight of me bleeding on the floor.
“That’s enough,” he said flatly.
He turned to his beta-maid.