Melissa.
The sound of the slap still echoed in my ears long after Cyril’s hand dropped back to his side.
It wasn’t just the sharp crack of skin against skin.
It was the vibration that followed. The ringing. The way it seemed to bounce off the tiled walls and lodge itself somewhere deep inside my skull, replaying over and over long after the moment had passed.
For a second, I thought I might have imagined it, but the sting spreading across my cheek told me otherwise.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The kitchen, once full of whispers and clattering pots, had gone completely still.
Only moments ago, there had been the rhythmic scrape of knives against wooden boards. The hiss of oil in heated pans. Low murmurs exchanged between omegas. The shuffle of feet against stone.
Now, there was a h
