He was furious at me. Something cold settled under my ribs. In that moment, all pretense of partnership dropped from him like cast-off skin. Alice rolled in the floor in a tragic display, and Carson lunged to her side, soothing, apologetic. His anger, aimed at me, had the righteous tone of a man who wanted nothing to do with his own guilt.
“Apologize to Alice,” he ordered. The humiliation in his voice cut deeper than any physical blow. I forced a dry, humorless smile. “You want me to apologize?” My voice was a rasp. “Do you know what this is?” I shoved my copy of the report into his chest.
He didn’t look. With a growl he tore the pages in two. “I don’t care what that says. You went too far. For the Moon Goddess’ sake, you’re pregnant too—how can you be cruel to a pregnant woman?”
Tears came then, hot and silent. My wolf flared—not from physical pain but from a furious, righteous anger that snapped like wire. I realized then that I was mourning not just a lover but the idea of a life we’d planned together. Carson’s expression softened slightly on seeing my tears; he softened because the world demanded it, not because his heart had shifted. “Alright,” he said, voice low. “Apologize. I know I’ve neglected you. I promise I’ll make it up once the pup is born.”
He pushed me toward Alice with a show of contrition. Alice’s eyes shone like emeralds—triumph and triumph only. I stepped back, feeling more alone than I had in months. “No,” I said, steadying myself. “I won’t apologize. You’ve let me down.”
Then I turned and walked away.