Chapter 12: Pack Politics and Pride
(Scarlett's POV)
I watched Steven move around the den’s dining area. No matter how hard I tried to let go of yesterday’s events, his dismissive "accept it" comment kept playing in my mind. With every moment, my frustration boiled hotter. His arrogance, his way of reasserting dominance, it wasn’t just irritating—it was infuriating.
I adjusted my robe, the fabric tight against my skin as I stormed towards him. I was ready to confront him, to demand he take responsibility for the tangled mess of emotions Sarah’s boldness had stirred up. But as I rounded the corner, I came to a sudden stop.
Steven stood by the table, holding a plate. The smell hit me first—venison, perfectly cooked and rich with the earthy aroma of moon-blessed herbs. My favorite.
