Arlene's POV
The imposing figure moved through the living room with predatory grace, examining every photograph and portrait displayed on walls and surfaces. Bernard lifted a framed picture from the mantle and approached my father, who hadn't bothered to glance in my direction even once.
"Where are the pictures of Arlene?" His voice carried dangerous undertones. "Is she not your blood?"
"She's not mine," Claudia snarled from across the room. The venomous words sent ice through my veins, and I fought the urge to look at the woman who had tormented my childhood. My skin crawled with familiar dread.
"I wasn't speaking to you, street cat," Bernard's growl silenced Claudia instantly. "Disgusting breed of animal."
"My mate comes first," my father replied without emotion.
Bernard's smile turned predatory. "If I were to kill these children, would your mate still be enough for you?"
