Lennox's POV
Olivia abruptly turned to me. "You're the eldest, Lennox," Olivia said, her voice trembling but sharp with pain. "You're skilled, you're trained—you can't make such a mistake. Not like this." Her frown deepened, and I could feel the hurt under her anger, the disappointment that I could wound Levi the way I had.
My chest tightened. I wanted to argue, to tell her it was a mistake, that I hadn't meant for the cut to land as deep as it had. But looking at her—at the disappointment swimming in her gaze—I couldn't bring myself to speak. The protest died on my tongue.
Instead, I dropped my eyes, swallowing the bitter weight pressing in my throat. "I'm sorry," I murmured, the words barely more than a whisper. I meant it because they weren't just for Levi. They were for her too.
