Chapter 57

Eve's POV

I looked into his eyes and damn him for it; they were sincere.

Right now, Rygar wasn't the cold, commanding Alpha or the hardened warrior who silenced men with a single gaze.

His gaze was soft, bare, and vulnerable.

The kind of look that made you want to believe in things like promises and forever and stupid fairytales.

For one weak, reckless second, I let myself believe he wasn't lying.

My heart loosened its grip on my anger just enough to hurt.

Because if he was telling the truth… then what the hell did I see last night?

I wasn't crazy or hallucinating.

I SAW him.

I saw his body over Kaela's. I saw their silhouettes tangled on our bed, the same bed where he whispered that he loved me. I heard the sounds. The gasps. The awnings.

I wasn't drunk. I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't some hysterical girl imagining shadows.

I saw him.

Didn't I?

The memory replayed in my head, but now it felt… foggy around the edges. Like a painting someone had smudged with wet fingers. The more I tried to focus, the less sharp it became.

My pulse picked up.

No. No. I wasn't crazy.

I dragged my gaze back to his face, searching for cracks. For guilt. For anything that would prove my anger was justified.

But he just looked confused. Worried. Almost desperate.

That made it worse.

Rygar leaned in slightly, his voice lower now, like he didn't want the whole world to hear this fragile moment between us.

"What did Skara say to you?" he asked.

Her name scraped across my nerves.

Was this man blaming Skara for what I saw him do?

My jaw clenched.

He continued before I could answer, his eyes locked on mine like he was trying to hold me in place.

"I know her better than you do," he said. "She twists minds. She feeds on fear and doubt. If she showed you something, anything, it might not be real."

My stomach flipped.

Might not be real?

The words echoed louder than they should.

I hated how they slid into the cracks of my certainty.

I shook my head slightly, like I could physically dislodge the doubt forming there.

"But I saw you," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I saw you, Rygar."

Even to my own ears, I sounded less confident than before.

Was I crazy, or is Rygar trying to gaslight me?

His expression softened, making my chest ache.

"For what it's worth," he murmured, "she could have cast a vision. A spell. Something meant to drive you away from me."

Drive me away.

Wasn't that exactly what Skara wanted? For me to leave? To annul the marriage? To disappear back to my world so she'd stop hunting him?

My thoughts tangled into knots.

I hated this. I hated not knowing what was real. I hated that my heart still leaned toward him even when my pride screamed at me to pull away.

I searched his face one more time.

If he was lying, he was terrifyingly good at it.

If he was telling the truth… then I'd just accused the only person who had protected me in this savage world of the worst betrayal.

My throat burned.

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes, like he was measuring how close I was to breaking.

Or to forgiving.

Or to running.

I didn't even know myself.

I swallowed hard.

Rygar stepped closer, slowly, giving me time to pull away.

I didn't.

That alone said too much.

His arms began to lift, cautious but certain, like he believed I'd still let him hold me.

Like some part of me still belonged in his embrace.

And gods help me, some part of me did.

I shut my eyes, and suddenly I felt that anger boiling over.

Men ain't shit. And this just proved it.

"I will never forgive you," I shoved him off.

Rygar's shoulders dropped like the weight of my words had turned his bones to sand. For a heartbeat, the furious, untouchable warlord before me looked like a man who'd just been struck somewhere deep and mortal.

My palms still stung from shoving him. Good. Let the pain remind me this was real.

"I will never forgive you!" I said again, my voice shaking but loud enough to cut. "Do you hear me, Rygar? Never!"

The wind tugged at my hair, carrying the scent of smoke and iron from the camp below, but all I could smell was him. It made my chest ache with memories I didn't want.

He stared at me like he was searching for the woman he thought he knew. She wasn't here anymore.

"And yes," I continued, lifting my chin, forcing the words out like blades, "I spoke to Skara! I went to her! I asked for her help!"

His jaw tightened. I saw the exact moment his disbelief turned to rage.

"She offered me answers," I said. "Something you never do! Something you never will!"

His eyes burned. "You went to the woman who slaughtered my people?!"

"Your people?" I barked a hollow laugh. "What about me, Rygar? What am I? A trophy? A broodmare? A political leash you keep tied to your wrist?"

His nostrils flared, but I didn't stop.

"You parade me as your wife when it suits you and lock me away when it doesn't. You speak of protection like it's love, but it's just another cage!"

"Eve," he warned, low and dangerous.

"No. You don't get to silence me anymore!"

The words poured out now, hot and unstoppable.

"You're a liar and a cheat! You don't get to gaslight me to silence!"

I jabbed a finger at his chest. "At least Skara was honest about what she is!"

His hand caught my wrist mid-air.

"She is a monster," he said, each word edged with steel. "She bathes in blood and kills children. Have you forgotten Ciara?"

My harden gaze threatened to soften, but I didn't bulge at the mention of Skara.

"You think you're a saint." I shot back. "

Something flickered in his gaze, like deep hurt. It almost broke my momentum.

Almost.

I yanked my hand free. "You know what? It doesn't matter. None of it does."

I looked him dead in the eyes, pouring every ounce of my misery into the next words. "Fuck off, Rygar."

My words hung like a slap.

"If you want me dead, then do it. Draw your sword. Finish it." I spread my arms slightly, exposing my chest. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? A quiet, compliant wife who doesn't question you? I'm a disappointment anyway."

His face went pale under the bronze of his skin.

"I don't care anymore," I whispered, and that was the most honest thing I'd said all day. "I would rather die than go back to that life. I will not return as your wife. I won't warm your bed. I won't wear your mark like a brand."

My throat tightened, but I forced the final breath out steadily. "I hate you. And I want this marriage annulled."