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Rune’s POV

My hand gripped the glass tightly, the coolness of the liquor doing little to temper the heat of my rage. I tossed back another shot, the burn sliding down my throat, but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough to drown the thoughts of her—Alora.

One of the maids stood trembling by the bar inside my study, her hands shaking as she hurried to refill my glass the moment I emptied it. I didn’t have to look at her to know she was terrified, her fear radiating off her in waves.

But I didn’t care.

Alora. She hadn’t broken down. Despite everything, despite the dungeon, the cold, the humiliation… she was still defiant, still stubborn, still that infuriating little shit. My skin itches with the need to break her, to finally see her crumble before me.

I was so lost in the imagery that I didn’t hear them enter at first. My father’s deep voice cut through the haze in my mind, pulling me back to the present.

My father’s deep voice cut through the haze in my mind, pulling me back