Catherine's POV
The glass sat in front of me like a verdict.
Damian's arm draped across the back of my chair, every inch of him close enough to scent, and I could not move. The room I had ruled with one small smile a minute ago had narrowed to a single perfect circle of wine.
If I drank, I became Kate. Six months from now I might be bleeding a child out onto a marble floor the way that pathetic woman had, and no amount of Voss money would put it back inside me. If I didn't drink, every wolf at this table would know.
There was only one move left.
Burn it down. Set fire to the one thing in this room more suspicious than I was.
My chair scraped hard against the floor as I shoved upright. The stem snapped between my fingers. Burgundy bloomed across the white linen like a wound opening up
