Evander's POV
The moment she turned her back on me, I saw red.
Every muscle in my jaw clenched so hard it ached. Her words still echoed in my skull like a blade scraping bone—defiance wrapped in silk, arrogance dipped in honey. You can see I'm just waiting for my drink, Evander.
She said it so calmly. So boldly.
In front of everyone.
The café, with its high glass walls and velvet hush, suddenly felt too small to contain my temper. I could hear my heartbeat in the polished marble floor. The guards kept their heads low, their bodies rigid. Even Rook didn't dare meet my eyes. The air itself bowed to the weight of my anger.
And she?
She had the audacity to lift her chin, her cloudy eyes staring at nothing but still managing to challenge me. Then, as if to twist the knife, she said, "Mara, take the drinks. Lead me to our table."
Like I didn't exist.
