Davian.
I had meant to raise my hand at Maria.
The intention had been there the moment she stood in front of us, accused my sister openly, and dared to deny what Anabel had said. In front of the pack. In front of everyone.
She had forced my hand.
No—she had forced my pride.
When I struck her earlier, it wasn't mindless violence. At least that's what I told myself. It was discipline. Order. Protection of my sister's name. If she was bold enough to accuse Anabel publicly, then she needed to understand there were consequences.
Still…
When Aidan declared, "Lock Maria up in the dungeon. We will decide how to punish her later," something inside me tightened.
The dungeon.
It was harsh.
Necessary, perhaps.
But harsh.
A part of me didn't want that for her.
The thought irritated me instantly. Why should I care? She stood here accused of harming an Alpha. Of possibly plotting something sinister.
