Chapter 90: The Unveiled Gorthmorde Heir
"You're still a Bennington. A family of muscle-headed brutes. No wonder you lack all grace, all table manners, all sense of how a proper lady behaves. You're nothing but a wild thing."
Hannah's lips curved into a sharp, unamused smile.
She held Logan's gaze directly, no fear, no hesitation, not even a flicker of unease.
Beneath her cloak, Ren tensed instantly, tiny claws pricking gently at her skin, a low, irritated hum thrumming in his chest as he sensed Logan's malice.
"Wild or not," she said, her voice deceptively sweet yet laced with quiet venom,
"at least I don't skulk around hillsides, peeping and eavesdropping on young ladies like some cowardly dog. I'd call that far worse than poor table manners."
Logan's face flickered.
For a split second, unbridled shock and panic flashed across his features—he had been certain his snooping had gone entirely unseen.
