I raced after Alaric, my heart hammering against my ribs as I caught up to him in the hallway.
"Alaric, stop!" I grabbed his arm, pulling with all my strength to halt his determined stride. "Please, just wait!"
He whirled around, his face a mask of barely contained rage. "Wait? While my mother walks free after ordering an attack on Alistair? After she's responsible for Thomas's death?"
"You don't know that for certain," I said, though the doubt in my voice betrayed me. Everything pointed to Lady Rowena's involvement.
"I know enough." His voice was ice-cold. "Four men attacked my servants on my land. Thomas is dead. Alistair nearly died. And my mother's jealousy of him has festered for decades."
I stepped closer, placing my hands on his chest. "I'm not saying don't confront her. I'm saying don't do it like this—not while you're consumed by rage."
His breathing was ragged, his shoulders tight with tension. "She's gone too far this time, Isabella. Too far."
