I saw his hand lift. I refused to let it land.
I caught his wrist and slapped him—once, then again. The sound cracked through the hall.
“Go to hell, Magnus.”
I turned and walked out.
I didn’t run. Tears blurred my vision, but I kept moving because I knew the second I stopped, I’d collapse.
When I reached my room, the emptiness hit me like a fist.
Ten years. Ten years of waiting for those boys to soften. Ten years of hoping they’d love me.
I dragged out my suitcase and began packing.
The door slammed open. Magnus stormed in.
“What madness has possessed you?”
I kept packing.
He grabbed the suitcase and flung it across the room. Clothes scattered everywhere.
“Now you’re listening.”
“Keep it,” I said bitterly. “Everything here is poisoned.”
“Enough!” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
“Touch me again and I’ll break your fingers.”
He froze, staring at me. “What happened to you?”
“You liked me better silent,” I said. “Now that I’m done swallowing it, I’m the problem?”
“Calm down,” he said. “Let me explain.”
“Go on.”
“Elara is sick,” he said. “Cancer. She doesn’t have long. The boys begged me to make her their mother so she can pass peacefully.”
I laughed—cold and sharp.