He hurried to her side, one arm steadying her shoulders, concern written plainly across his face. “Milly, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Then he looked at me.
The warmth vanished instantly. His brows drew together, his eyes sharpening into something cold and judgmental.
“Miss Ravenscar,” he said curtly, “you’re carrying a child. You should know better than to be wandering around like this. Being pregnant doesn’t give you the right to lay hands on new pack members.”
There was no hesitation in his tone. No pause to ask what had actually happened. He accepted her version without question, as if it were already proven fact.
“I didn’t touch her,” I said quietly, my voice barely holding together.
He scoffed. “So you’re telling me she just fell on her own?”
Each word struck like a barb, piercing deeper than the last.
The two of them stood so close, their bodies angled instinctively toward each other. I suddenly felt like an outsider intruding on a scene I was never meant to witness.
I turned away without another word, one hand flying to my mouth as I hurried toward the restroom.
The nausea finally won.