A smirk tugged at the corner of Emilia’s mouth. Not a warm one. Not one of approval.
“If you do,” Emilia murmured, voice light, almost amused, “you’ll suffer more in the hands of Izzy.”
Elisa’s fingers curled around the edge of the table.
She already knew that.
She just didn’t know how much.
Kieran leaned against the heavy wooden desk, his hands braced on the surface. His knuckles were bloodied, but he barely felt it. His mind was still spinning from the encounter with Damon, from the way Elisa had looked at him—measured, searching, not running to the other Alpha’s side.
Izzy stood across from him, swirling her wine in her goblet. She had the patience of a cat watching mice scurry, perfectly content to let the pieces fall as they may.
“You let him leave,” she mused.
Kieran’s gaze d
