Meredith.
"Go to your room so your maidservants can tend to your injuries," Draven's voice cut through the ringing in my ears.
I glared at him, my chest heaving from exhaustion and rage.
The sheer gall of it—standing there after letting Wanda tear into me, after letting her spit venom and fists alike, and then pretending he cared.
My heart burned so bitterly I could almost taste the resentment on my tongue.
In that moment, I hated him. I truly did.
Not for being Alpha. Not for being the cold, strategic leader I'd always known him to be.
But for failing where it mattered to me most.
He was a seasoned warrior, a brilliant tactician, a leader who had the loyalty of an entire people.
And yes, one day, he might be the greatest King the werewolves ever had. But none of that changed what he had proven to me today.
He was unfit to be a husband. And in that duty, he had failed miserably.
The words slipped out of me, raw and trembling with fury:
