The arena of Regina had barely begun to empty when the quiet poison of jealousy started to spread in a far darker corner of the territory, for while the pack whispered about the woman who had stepped between two wolves and stopped bloodshed with a single word, another pair of eyes watched the same moment with burning resentment.
Two lines of bitter silence followed.
Isabella D'Angelo stood beneath the shadow of the stone archway.
Her fingers curled slowly.
She had watched everything.
Three lines of simmering rage twisted inside her chest.
Victor surviving.
Darius failing.
And worst of all.
Elara standing in the center of the arena while wolves obeyed her voice.
Isabella exhaled sharply.
Five lines of venomous thought drifted through her mind while the scene replayed again and again like a wound she could not stop touching.
"That ridiculous human."
"That naïve little Luna."
"Standing there like she owns the world."
Her jaw tightened.
"And the pack…"
