It was a win. The Maxtons had lost their witch.
Unambiguous if not glorious, even.
But it wasn't his win.
It was Chaos's. Sienna's. Dravenna's.
And the fact that those three women were now coordinating behind his back—scheming, moving pieces, withholding information—sat in the back of his mind like a small, cold stone he had accidentally swallowed and couldn't quite cough up.
He trusted Sienna. He trusted Melissa, who trusted Chaos.
Strange... why don't I trust grandma at all, after all, she taught me everything I know now, well, the harem part of everything I know at least.
Then again, how could he trust someone he wants to cuck.
He was even, against every survival instinct screaming in his head, beginning to trust Dravenna.
But trust was not the same as being included, and Phei had spent ten long years in a house where being left out of certain rooms usually meant you were the next sacrifice on the altar.
