Tristan’s eyes flicked to me, but there was no guilt. No shame. He just gave me that cold, indifferent stare and growled, “Can you stop being so damn paranoid? Selene and I are discussing pack business.” His voice lowered, laced with condescension. “And if there really was something between us, do you think you'd even be my Luna?"
I almost laughed. The sheer audacity of it. The old me would’ve screamed, demanded answers. But this time? I didn’t have the energy.
Instead, I smiled—a calm, bitter curve of my lips—and tossed the roses onto the table. Then, I slipped off the engagement ring and let it fall.
“I wish you both happiness.”
The ring clinked against the floor, rolling to Tristan’s feet. He crushed it beneath his boot, like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.
“If you want to stay my Luna,” he sneered, “fix your attitude. Stop being so suspicious. You’re embarrassing yourself.” His eyes flicked to the door. “Now get out. We’ve got serious matters to discuss.”
I stood there, frozen for a beat. Every word slicing deeper than I thought possible. But I didn’t cry. Not this time.
I turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.