Ronan
They scatter when I dismiss them.
Jace lingers just long enough to meet my eyes, his stare a quiet question, before he too steps away.
The fire spits and pops in the quiet that follows. I stand at the head of the table, fingers tapping once on the scarred wood before I draw my knife free of its sheath.
The blade gleams orange in the light. I press it flat against my palm, feeling the bite of metal against calloused skin. Not enough to cut. Not yet.
He surprised me.
That soft-spined, pretty, omega exterior of his hides steel.
He stood in front of my council and didn't beg.
He came out with the truth when pressed. Raw and jagged, but hiding nothing.
The breeding pens. The punishments. I’ve seen them for myself. It’s cruelty beyond even what I’m prepared to dish out.
And
