"Wait," she blurts before she can stop herself. "Crush?"
"Oh, totally," Lira confirms, grinning like this is the juiciest gossip of the decade. "Nash has been meaning to ask Daphne out for ages. Guess now's the perfect chance, huh?"
Isolde's world splits open. Her lungs squeeze tight like fists around her ribcage. Crush. Nash had a crush—on Daphne. On her baby sister who's doodled his name in notebooks since middle school, while Isolde sat in the background making snarky comments about what an arrogant idiot he was.
The pain that slices through her chest is unbearable and raw. It's like the mate bond has taken a blade and carved jealousy into her heart, carving deep and merciless. She wants to laugh. She wants to scream. She wants to dig her own grave right here in the marble floor and lie in it forever.
