Zander’s POV.
The tension at the dinner table was so thick it felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest. Every sound-the clink of silverware, the low murmur of distant conversations, even the faint music playing in the background-faded into nothing but static.
My attention was solely on her. Aria. My Luna. My wife. She sat directly across from me, her emerald-green dress caressing her figure in a way that made my throat tighten.
She looked breathtaking tonight, radiant in a way that made it impossible not to notice her. But what made it worse, what made my chest constrict like a vice, was that she wasn’t looking at me. Not once.
Instead, her attention was on him. Asher. The man I once called a brother. The man who betrayed me. The man who was now sitting just inches away from her, leaning in far closer than I cared to see. She laughed softly at something he said, her eyes lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen in months. That sound-her laughter-it used to be mine. It used to belong to me. And now, it felt like a weapon, sharp and pointed, aimed directly at my chest.
I could see what she was doing. Every glance she gave Asher, every smile that lingered too long, every soft laugh that echoed in my ears like a taunt-it was deliberate. Calculated. A game she was playing to push me to my breaking point. And it was working. She wasn’t just ignoring me; she was deliberately choosing him, showing me what it felt like to be on the outside looking in.
I gripped my glass of whiskey tightly, my fingers curling around it until the coolness of the glass pressed against my skin like a warning. My wolf, restless and furious, paced beneath the surface, growling low and steady, a constant reminder of the storm brewing inside me. My jaw tightened as I clenched my fists under the table, forcing myself to stay seated, to stay calm. But it was taking everything I had to keep my composure. I couldn’t lose control here. Not in front of Asher. Not in front of her.
And yet, she was making it nearly impossible. Asher leaned closer to her, his voice dropping to a low murmur, just quiet enough that I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Whatever it was, it made her smile-a real smile, the kind that reached her eyes, the kind she hadn’t given me in what felt like forever. My chest tightened painfully, a mix of anger and something far more bitter clawing at me. Jealousy.
Something inside me cracked.
“Asher,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through their conversation like a blade.
He turned to me slowly, his expression calm, almost bored. But I knew better. I could see the smugness in the way he sat back in his chair, the slight tilt of his head, the glint in his eyes. He wasn’t just talking to her; he was provoking me. Daring me to react.
“Yes, Zander?” he replied, his tone polite but laced with something sharp, something mocking.
My grip on the glass tightened as I fought the urge to stand, to grab him by the collar and throw him across the room. But I stayed seated, forcing my voice to remain steady. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” I said coolly, each word measured, though it was clear to everyone at the table that it wasn’t a question.
“Immensely,” he answered without missing a beat, lifting his glass in a mock toast. His gaze flicked back to Aria, and that’s when I saw it. The glint of amusement in his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying testing me, pushing me, seeing how far he could go before I snapped.
Aria, as if sensing my simmering rage, tilted her head slightly, her smile widening. She wasn’t just letting him provoke me-she was helping him. And then, as if she hadn’t already pushed me far enough, Asher leaned closer to her, his voice smooth and confident as he said the words that made my blood run cold.
“Care to dance?”
I froze.
For a moment, the entire world seemed to stop. The low murmur of the restaurant, the clink of glasses, the faint music-it all disappeared. All I could hear was the sound of my wolf snarling in my head, clawing at the edges of my mind, demanding I put an end to this. My fingers twitched against the glass, the urge to act nearly overwhelming.
Aria turned to me then, her gaze locking with mine. Her eyes were glinting with something dangerous, something defiant. She was daring me, daring me to stop her. And then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she turned back to Asher and smiled.
“I’d love to,” she said softly, her voice smooth and sweet, like a melody designed to haunt me.
I watched in silence as she stood, her movements slow and deliberate, placing her hand in his. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt like a slap to the face. My wolf roared in fury, and I could feel the edges of my control fraying, unraveling with each passing second.
Asher stood as well, his lips curving into a small, smug smile as he led her toward the dance floor. My eyes followed them, my chest tight, my fists clenched so hard under the table that I thought I might break the glass in my hand.
“That’s enough,” I muttered to myself under my breath, but no one heard me. Not her. Not him.
I watched as they moved together, his hand resting lightly on her waist, hers on his shoulder. They weren’t even close enough to be inappropriate, but it didn’t matter. The sight of them together was enough to send a surge of rage through my veins. I wanted to stand, to pull her away from him, to remind her-and him-exactly who she belonged to.
But I didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, I sat there, my gaze fixed on them, my wolf snarling in my chest, and I made a silent vow. This game she was playing, this little rebellion of hers-it wasn’t going to last. She was mine. And I would make sure she never forgot that.