Izara's POV
Alpha Mavros’s glare pinned me down like a predator ready to pounce. “What the hell is wrong with you, Izara? Have you forgotten she’s your sister?” His voice was low, cutting, sharp enough to pierce through armor.
But I didn’t flinch. My focus stayed locked on Vivian, her tear-streaked face doing nothing to chip away at the satisfaction thrumming in my chest. She deserved it. Every bit of it.
I leveled her with a stare colder than ice. “Think carefully about what you’re accusing, Vivian,” I said, my voice sharp and unforgiving.
Vivian clutched her cheek, tears streaming as she whimpered, “I’m sorry, Sis Izara. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you and Alpha Mavros... but Kallias is faking his illness.”
Her words slammed into me like a wrecking ball. My chest tightened, rage bubbling up until it spilled over. Faking his illness? My Kallias? My son?
I didn’t even realize I’d raised my hand again until Mavros’s grip clamped around my wrist. “Don’t hurt your sister again,” he growled, his voice edged with warning.
I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. “You believe her, don’t you?” My voice trembled, raw with disbelief. He let go of my wrist, but his silence spoke volumes.
That silence? It shattered me. It was all the answer I needed. The betrayal burned hotter than fire, charring any trace of love I might’ve had left for him.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost cautious. “Where’s Kallias? Are you leaving with him?”
A bitter laugh tore out of me. “So that’s what this is about. Not whether he’s sick, not whether he needs you. You just want to know if I’m taking him with me.”
His mouth opened, like he had something to say, but nothing came out. Typical. His silence screamed louder than words ever could. If he’d ever set foot in Kallias’s room, he wouldn’t need to ask. The proof was all there—the rows of medicine bottles, the healer’s desperate notes. But no. He never looked past Vivian’s lies.
“You weren’t there,” I snapped, my voice rising with every word. “Not when Kallias was crying in pain, not when he begged for you to show up. And now you just believe her? What kind of father are you?”
Something flickered in his eyes—guilt, maybe? Anger? But as always, he said nothing.
The memories crashed over me, merciless. Kallias pressing his little face to the window, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will Dad come this time?” And the way his small shoulders had slumped when I couldn’t even muster up a convincing lie anymore. I’d gone to Mavros that night, swallowing every shred of my pride. “Just one festival,” I begged. “If not for me, then for him.”
And he’d smiled. Smiled like he’d won. “If I go, will you leave me alone for good?”
“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word.
But he didn’t go.
Now, staring at him, there was nothing left of the boy my parents had taken in, the boy I’d once thought I loved. The man standing in front of me was a stranger—cold, heartless, and everything I should’ve seen coming.
Vivian’s sickly sweet voice broke through my thoughts. “Alpha Mavros, my face hurts… I’m feeling faint.” She swayed dramatically, clutching his arm like she might collapse. Her performance? Oscar-worthy.
Mavros moved immediately, steadying her with hands that once held me. His voice softened, dripping with concern. “Vivian, you need to rest. You’ve been through too much.”
I scoffed under my breath, biting down on the scream clawing its way out. Of course. Vivian, the golden child. Vivian, who could do no wrong. And me? I was just the convenient scapegoat.
Then he turned back to me, his gaze hard as steel. “Apologize to your sister, Izara,” he commanded, his tone laced with authority. “You were out of line.”
