Beatrice swore she was going to kill this man one day. And perhaps, just maybe, Elijah knew that which was why he kept tempting her to try.
The silence in the meeting room had stretched so thin it snapped at the edges like a wire ready to whip. No one moved, nor dared to speak. The king's public humiliation of his own Luna was so blatant and intentional, yet everyone in the room pretended to be caught in polite, deafening ignorance.
Beatrice slowly peeled her fingers from their death grip on the table and turned to face her husband. Her smile was icy, and her voice sugarcoated with steel when she said, "I see. The great Alpha King can't bear to let his beloved wife finish her sentence without marking his territory. How very… savage of you."
She chuckled callously like someone used to the antics of her husband and turned to her audience, announcing, "But don't worry, he doesn't last— as you can see— so we can move on."
