Damien's eyes were dark with a mix of shame and fury. He paced the floor, his face still glistening with sweat. Every time he looked at the bed where Sofia lay, his heart twisted.
"What is going on between you and Sofia?" Damien asked, curious. "You guys aren't on good terms?"
Alaric didn't look away. He pulled his shirt over his broad shoulders, his face etched with a frown. "Yes. There is an issue," he admitted, his voice rasping. "An issue I will fix."
"Uncle, let her go!" Damien stepped into Alaric's space, his fists clenched. "She is my mate. I know I messed up before. I know I was cruel. But I love her. I really love her, Alaric. And I know what you're doing. You're looking for a ghost. But she is not Elizabeth."
The air in the room turned freezing. At the mention of Elizabeth, Alaric's eyes flashed with a lethal green light. He grabbed the collar of Damien's shirt, pulling his nephew close until their noses nearly touched.
