His eyes flickered to the flames dancing at my fingertips, but his expression remained unreadable. The warriors around us tensed, waiting for an order, a signal—anything to tell them whether I was still their enemy.
But my father didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
And that silence told me everything.
He was afraid. Not of me, exactly, but of what I could become. Of what he had tried—and failed—to destroy.
I let the fire burn hotter, let the heat crack the air between us, daring him to stop me.
“You wanted me dead,” I said, voice steady. “And now you have to live with the fact that I’m still here.” I tilted my head. “So tell me, Alpha—what happens now?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. For a long moment, he just stared at me, calculating.
Then, finally, he exhaled. “Now,” he said, “you choose.
