For a heartbeat, Isabella couldn't even breathe.
Had she really just heard Cyrus—sweet, gentle Cyrus—say that?
Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. Of all the things she'd expected him to do tonight, calmly offering to fight for her in front of the entire village was not one of them.
"If this is what you want, Isabella, then I'll fight for you."
His words rang in her ears.
If this is what you want.
What did that even mean?! Did she look like she wanted them to fight? Did she look like she was standing here daydreaming about claws and blood and bones cracking under fists?
She couldn't even imagine it. The brutality of it. The carnage.
Her stomach lurched at the thought.
Her gaze darted between them—Cyrus, calm as ever, Kian standing rigid beside her, and Zyran with that smug curve of his lips that spelled nothing but trouble.
