Draven.
"Go to her first, Draven."
Rhovan’s voice again—calm, unwavering, as if this was so trivial thing, like shifting forms or giving a simple order.
"You wouldn’t lose your title by explaining yourself to her."
I stiffened. "Not happening."
"Why? Because of your ego?" Rhovan countered, his voice tightening just slightly. "Because she’s supposed to co crawling to you?"
"Because I’m not the one who lied," I hissed internally, grinding my teeth as I cut into the edge of my muffin, not bothering to eat it.
"No," Rhovan said, "but you are the one who betrayed first."
That hit a nerve.
"Excuse ?"
"You heard ," Rhovan said with a sigh. "You handed her over to Wanda. You stood there and watched her get humiliated, mocked, beaten. You were silent when she looked to you for help. You allowed it to happen—and now you’re angry she hid her wolf?"
"That’s not the sa," I argued, jaw tight.
"It is," he said firmly. "You both withheld sothing. The difference is that hers was done for a reason you haven’t bothered to find out, while yours wounded her."
My grip on my utensils faltered for half a second.
Rhovan continued, relentless now. "She’s not the only one who’s stubborn, Draven. What’s the difference between you and her if you keep acting like this?"
"The difference is," I growled inwardly, "I’m not trying to twist things to make her feel better about her actions."
"And I’m not trying to trick you," Rhovan snapped. "I’m your wolf, not your enemy. Everything I say is for your own good. Because in the end, you’re the one who will lose the most. Not her. You."
I clenched my jaw and exhaled hard through my nose, ignoring the way my heart thudded at those words.
"You need to swallow your pride and do the right thing," Rhovan said, gentler now. "You want her to submit? Then lead. Accept your part of the wrongs first, and she will follow."
"No," I shot back. "I’m done bending. She will need . Eventually, she will co to first."
There was a long pause.
Rhovan didn’t argue further. He just sighed—long, slow, disappointed—and went quiet.
The silence in my head was louder than ever. How could Rhovan say that I am the one who will lose the most in the end?
redith is the one who needs . She begged to train her, and in due ti, she will find her way to my bedroom or my office.
And what did Rhovan say again about having to ta my ego?
Seeing how redith was eating without a care in the world just to have the satisfaction of seeing taunted while I could barely have a bite, I seriously doubted I was the one with pride issues.
She had to be the one.
---
A few minutes later, I stood from the table without another word.
Behind , I heard Dennis scrape his chair back.
"Brother," he said as he rose to his feet. "I need a word with you."
I didn’t pause. "Follow ."
Without glancing redith’s way, I exited the hall, footsteps hard against the polished floor as Dennis fell in beside . He knew better than to crack one of his usual lighthearted comnts. My mood was nothing close to tolerable.
I pushed open the door to my office, letting him step in behind , then led us both toward the sitting area. I dropped into the corner of the sofa with a stiff exhale. Dennis took the opposite end.
I turned to him. "Well? Speak."
Dennis folded his arms and looked straight at . "I’ve noticed sothing, and frankly, so has everyone else in this house. You and your wife haven’t been in good terms for two weeks now, and the tension is thick enough to slice with a knife."
I frowned. "And that’s supposed to be your business, how, exactly? I have an issue with redith. Not with anyone else."
"Yeah, and that issue is strong enough to rob everyone else of their peace," Dennis shot back. "Even the servants are walking on eggshells."
I grunted but said nothing.
"And if we’re being honest," he continued, "shouldn’t redith be the one mad at you? She’s got a justifiable reason to be."
My eyes narrowed. My gut told sothing then—sothing I didn’t like. "Wait... redith hasn’t told you what she did to ?"
Dennis blinked, confused. "No. What are you talking about?"
I scoffed and leaned back. "I thought she was your friend. Yet, she didn’t trust you enough to tell you she’s been hiding sothing this important. I guess I’m not the only one she betrayed."
Dennis shrugged. "I don’t feel betrayed. Even though I don’t know what it is she hid from , I know redith. If she kept sothing, it wasn’t for malicious reasons."
My smirk faltered. I had half expected him to be as indignant as I was—maybe even jump to my side. But clearly, I stood alone on this one.
It felt bad to see that my brother seed to know my wife better than I did. That left a sour taste in my mouth.
Dennis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That’s not what I ca here for anyway. I’m here because of what you did to her. You let Wanda—soone you knew hated her—train her. That was a bad call, brother. A really bad call."
I frowned. "I was trying to help her. She needed to understand what a real enemy would do, how a true threat would fight. She leaves herself too open—"
"Your intentions might have been good," Dennis interrupted, "but your thods? Horrible."
His eyes locked onto mine. "How would you feel if she—redith—tead up with your worst enemy to teach you a ’valuable lesson’? What if she conspired behind your back, claiming it would help you learn sothing?"
I didn’t answer. I didn’t like where this was going.
"Answer him," Rhovan growled in my mind, stern and unsparing. "You owe yourself that honesty."
Dennis pressed, "You can’t answer that, can you? Because it’s all shades of wrong, Draven."
I ground my jaw, but his words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. A part of wanted to reject it, to stand firm in my reasoning—but he was putting in her shoes now, and the fit was uncomfortable.
Dennis sighed. "The way you feel right now—violated, insulted, betrayed—it’s exactly how she felt. You handed her over to soone who wanted to break her, and from what I heard, you stood there and watched."
I looked away, silence tightening around my throat like a collar.
Dennis softened, but his tone was still firm. "Fix it. Go to her. Explain yourself. Apologize. Then, if you still want to address what she did, do it. But not before you own your part."
---
As soon as Dennis took his leave and the door clicked shut behind him, the room was too quiet.
I sat there, unmoving, staring at the corner of the floor like it might give a better answer than the one Dennis just handed to my face.
For all my dominance, for all my clarity as a leader... I had ssed up.
I had wronged redith.
And not just in the way a man wrongs a woman, but in the way a husband betrays a bond.
I had exposed her to her enemy.
I had made her feel small. I’d dismissed her pain for the sake of a lesson.
Rhovan didn’t even need to speak. His silence was heavy and judgntal.
I leaned back against the sofa, ran a hand down my face, then let it slide into my hair, fingers dragging through the long strands.
A low sigh rumbled out of my chest. Not frustration. Not even anger anymore.
Just... confusion.
How the hell was I supposed to go to her now?
What would I even say?
The thought of walking up to redith—head down, voice soft—and admitting I was wrong made my jaw tighten.
I wasn’t the type of man who apologized easily.
Not because I lacked remorse, but because I believed in the power of control. In structure. In authority.
And asking for forgiveness would an loosening my grip on all of that.
It would bruise my pride.
"No," I corrected myself. It would shatter it.
But hadn’t I already shattered sothing far more precious? That wild light she used to have when she looked at —burning with challenge but soft with trust—had dimd because of .
I exhaled again, slower this ti.
She would only grow more spoiled if I kept tolerating her every rebellion, right? That’s what I told myself that I needed to rein her in, not indulge her.
But wasn’t that the sa flawed thinking that put here?
No one had ever tested my patience the way redith did. Not even the humans, with all their betrayals and wicked sches, had gotten under my skin like she had.
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