Dinner was supposed to bring peace.
It never did.
The long oak table stretched between us like a battlefield. The smell of roasted meat and herbs hung thick in the air, but no one was really eating. Knives scraped plates. Forks clattered. The silence between us buzzed like a live wire.
Kael sat across from me, arms folded, his jaw tight. Soren sat two seats down, watching him with that cold, sharp stare that always came before something bad. Jace tried to make conversation once or twice, but his voice died each time. Ryn stared at his plate like it might save him.
I could feel it before it started. The bond’s low hum, the way it prickled under my skin when one of us was close to losing control.
Soren slammed his fork down. “You think you’re the only one who cares about this family?”
