“I want you to coach me in the battlefield—help me cover the gaps from my late entrance. I want you to teach me soccer, push me up the ranks. And in return… if I see real improvement, I’ll make sure Vanya visits you. That’s the deal.”
All the boyish eagerness he had moments ago evaporated.
His expression iced over—sharp lines, clenched jaw, cold eyes. The real Kross.
The one who didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.
“So you’re admitting it,” he said coolly. “You’re weaker. Incompetent. Not fit to stand beside the other Alphas—and instead of fighting to catch up, you blackmail me using your sister?”
I scoffed and gave him a pointed look. There it was.
The difference between how he treated Vaughn and how he treated Vanya.
With her, he was intense, obsessed, desperate. With Vaug
