Eve
My breath stalled.
I couldn't look away.
I couldn't blink.
Because I knew, if I did, I'd never be able to pretend again. Not even for a second.
His smile didn't reach his eyes—but it didn't have to.
The cruelty was in his voice now. Slow. Measured. Absolute.
"I've run the numbers," he said. "Factored in resource expenditure, war fatigue, attrition rates. We've lost more to werewolf alliances and uprisings than to any other external force in the past three decades."
He stepped forward, and it felt like the temperature dropped.
"I won't keep negotiating with parasites. I won't offer peace treaties to mutts who understand only blood. I won't waste another soldier, another child, another breath, trying to make room for the very species that has tried to erase mine from the beginning."
I shook my head. "No… no, this isn't you—"
"Don't delude yourself, Eve," he snapped, eyes flashing. "This is the only version of me that ever made sense."
