EMILI
“I don’t care about your apologies,” I repeated, pushing him again.
This time I stepped back to put distance between us. I needed space. I needed air. I needed not to smell his skin because every time I did, my brain stopped working.
“This was a mistake,” I said, the words sharp, cutting, meant to hurt. “I never should have crossed those lines. You’re the Lycán King. I’m a servant with a ruined face. I reached too high, and that’s my fault, not yours.”
“Emili, don’t say that—”
“I’m leaving.”
The word fell between us like a rock into a still lake. I saw him blink. I saw him tense.
“I’m leaving this pack,” I continued, and my voice didn’t tremble because I had no tremors left. “Right now. Tonight. I won’t come back.”
“No.” He stepped toward me, his hand reaching for my arm, but
