Izara's POV
I felt my nails bite into my palms, my blood boiling under my skin. Apologize? To her?
"No. I won’t. She deserved it—for my son."
For a second, his shock was unmistakable. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. For years, I’d bent over backward for him, swallowing every ounce of pride, desperate for even a shred of affection. But those days were gone. The old Izara—the one who begged for his attention—was dead. Kallias had given me something no one else ever had: a reason to fight back.
No more love.
No more begging.
No more chasing a man who never wanted me.
I needed to leave. Now. My body screamed for the door, but just as I took a step forward, his voice cracked like a whip.
"Izara!" he snapped. "Don’t you dare walk away. Apologize to your sister!"
I froze, not because I was scared, but because I was pissed. Fury surged through me, hot and blinding. Before I could even reply, two pack warriors moved to block my path. Their hands clamped down on my arms like iron cuffs, their grip unrelenting.
I struggled, my wolf snarling in my mind, but they were too strong. Too many.
Mavros loomed over me, his gaze brimming with contempt. “I warned you not to test me, Izara. Now apologize,” he growled, his voice low and final, like a judge sentencing me.
Vivian, of course, stepped in with her syrupy sweet voice. "Alpha Mavros, don’t... Sis Izara didn’t mean it," she cooed, pretending to care.
I couldn’t help the scoff that slipped out. Her fake concern was almost funny—if I wasn’t the one paying the price.
“You’re too kind, Vivian,” Mavros said, his tone softening as he turned to her. “She doesn’t deserve your kindness. After what she did, it’s clear she doesn’t see you as her sister.”
His words weren’t just venomous—they were nuclear. They didn’t sting; they burned. And as I watched them, their twisted bond, I cursed myself for ever loving him.
“You know the rules,” Mavros continued, his voice snapping back to cold authority. “Anyone who harms Vivian is punished—twice.”
I knew that look in his eyes. This wasn’t just about pack law. He wanted to make an example out of me.
The warriors shoved me down to my knees, my wolf thrashing and howling inside me. One of them forced my head forward, my cheek scraping against the cold tiles.
“Slap her,” Mavros ordered, his voice flat, detached, like he was talking about the weather.
Vivian gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like a bad actress. “No, Alpha Mavros, please... I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Liar.
Her tone shifted, dripping with faux sweetness. "Let me do it. She’s my sister. It’s my place to punish her, not yours."
A warrior grabbed my chin, yanking my head up. Vivian stepped closer, her face glowing with sick satisfaction. Then her hand lashed out, sharp and fast.
The first slap stung like fire. The second was worse. Her nails dragged across my cheek, leaving hot trails of blood dripping down my jaw.
“Oh no, Sis Izara!” she gasped, her voice trembling with fake remorse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
I locked eyes with her, my glare as sharp as a blade.
“She deserved it,” Mavros said coldly, not even glancing my way. “Don’t waste your sympathy on her, Vivian.”
The warriors released me, and I crumpled to the floor. Blood smeared across the pristine white tiles, and my wolf whimpered inside me. But I silenced her. I wasn’t weak. Not now. Not ever.
“You still owe your sister an apology,” Mavros growled, his voice dripping with menace.
I forced myself up, my legs trembling but steady. My eyes bore into his, unflinching. “I owe her nothing,” I said, my voice steady as steel. “No one accuses my son of something he didn’t do and gets away with it. She deserves worse than a slap for that.”
Mavros’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. His frustration was clear, but I didn’t care.
“Just do what I told you,” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Apologize to your sister, Izara. If you do, I’ll visit your son whenever you want. I’ll make you Luna. Legalize our marriage. Seal our bond.”
