My cheek still burned from her slap. My own wife. My hand lingered there, pressed to the sting, as the hall buzzed with whispers.
“Is that not him?” one woman murmured.
“Yes… the man who killed all his comrades five years ago…” another replied, her voice hushed but sharp enough to pierce me.
“He went to jail. What is he doing here?”
“Who on earth invited a criminal to such a gathering?”
Their words rippled around me like venom, spreading fast, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even look at them. My eyes were on her—Aria. My wife.
I reached out, gently but firmly holding her wrist. “We need to talk,” I said, my voice low, pleading, almost desperate.
She yanked her hand away as though my touch burned her. Her eyes were cold, her face pale with fury. “Leave me alone, Kael!”
My heart twisted
