Diara sat on the edge of her seat, heart pounding in her chest, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to stay quiet, to keep the peace, but she knew that if she didn't speak now, she might never get the chance again.
The words had been clawing at her throat for days, weeks even. She no longer wanted this. Not the contract, not the marriage—none of it.
But she also knew who Kellan was, what he was capable of. Saying those words aloud was like striking a match in a room full of gasoline.
Her fingers trembled as she twisted the fabric of her dress, trying to gather the courage to speak. Kellan sat across from her, his gaze piercing and unreadable.
His eyes always carried that same cold, deceptive calm, a calm that made her skin crawl because she knew what lay beneath.
