Irina’s POV
The voice was low, for my ears only. It wasn't Aiden's cold command or Lancer's remembered warmth. It was Alpha Reigrow's smooth, resonant baritone. His arm around my waist was firm, steadying, a solid anchor in the violent sea of my shock and pain. His touch was impersonal, yet it felt like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman.
The gesture, however, was a spark thrown into a powder keg.
I felt the air behind me shift, grow impossibly colder and heavier. Aiden’s presence, which had been a storm on the horizon, suddenly became the eye of a hurricane centered directly on us. I didn't need to turn to feel the full force of his glare; it was a physical pressure against my back, a silent, furious demand.
"Aiden is not happy," Theia whispered, a strange mix of fear and vicious
