Chapter 37
Vanya
Kross had believed me.
That lie about Nero—the supposed engagement, the predetermined future. He’d swallowed it whole.
And for the past three days, the old Kross was back.
Focused. Sharp. Cold as ice and twice as cutting.
He was everything he had been before he’d tasted my lips. Before he’d clutched me against a wall and whispered like I was the only thing tethering him to his sanity.
Now?
Now he barely even looked at me as Vaughn.
The aloof Alpha, untouchable as ever. No more unsolicited soccer tips muttered under his breath. No more hovering during combat drills like he might offer advice if I earned it. No more weird, lingering glances across the locker room.
And most importantly?
No more invitations to his infamous “victory showers” that used to be reserved
