Adolphus’s POV
The sharp crack of Cassandra’s palm against Katrina’s cheek cut through the air like a whiplash, loud enough to make the warriors training nearby stop mid-spar. The world around me blurred, my vision narrowing on the two women in front of me.
Katrina stood still, one hand touching her cheek, her expression unreadable. She didn’t recoil. Didn’t cry out. She just stared at Cassandra, her chest rising and falling in steady breaths.
Cassandra, on the other hand, didn’t wait for a reaction. With a satisfied smirk curling her lips, she turned on her heel, her golden hair whipping around her shoulders as she strode away like a queen dismissing a subject.
My blood boiled.
What the hell was that for?
Before I could even think, I moved. My feet carried me toward Katrina, my fists clenched at my sides.
"Katrina," I called, stopping just a breath away from her.
She turned sharply, her green eyes flashing as if she had only just realized I was there. A flicker of something crossed her face. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise, shame, or pain.
“What just happened? Why did Cassandra slap you?” I demanded.
Katrina let out a sharp breath, brushing strands of hair away from her face.
"It’s nothing," she said briskly.
"Nothing?" My jaw tightened. "You expect me to believe that after what I just saw?"
She attempted to step around me, but I was quicker. My hand shot out, catching her wrist.
"Katrina," I said, my voice softer but firm. "Tell me the truth."
She let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "And what are you going to do about it, Adolphus?" she asked, her tone laced with something bitter. "Run to the Alpha and tell him his precious daughter attacked me?"
The words hit me hard.
The Alpha didn’t tolerate disrespect toward Cassandra. Even if she were the one at fault, she’d never suffer the consequences. Katrina knew it. I knew it.
And worse—she was right.
I hesitated, and that was all she needed. She pulled her hand free, shaking her head.
"Exactly," she murmured, turning away. "Just leave it alone."
But I couldn’t.
Not when it came to her.
Not when she stood there with quiet dignity, refusing to be a victim.
Not when her face still bore Cassandra’s fingerprints like a brand—an insult written in red across her skin.
It wasn’t just the slap. It was what it meant. A public display of dominance, of entitlement. Cassandra had drawn a line in the sand, and Katrina hadn’t even flinched.
"Tell me what happened," I insisted, stepping in front of her again.
She sighed, tilting her head toward the sky as if asking the Moon Goddess for patience.
"I told you—it’s nothing."
"Nothing doesn’t leave a red mark on your face," I shot back.
There was a pause, a long one. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and her jaw clenched, like she was holding something back—something heavy.
I could see it—the storm behind her eyes. She was holding it in like she always did, locking it away where no one could reach. That was Katrina: composed, guarded, too proud to ever admit she was hurting.
She exhaled sharply, then suddenly smirked. "You’re really that interested in my well-being?"
"Yes," I said without thinking.
It slipped out, too fast, too raw.
She blinked, just once, and something flickered in her expression—something unguarded, like she hadn’t expected that answer. But it vanished just as quickly, swallowed up by the walls she always wore so well.
She crossed her arms, her smirk deepening like armor slipping back into place. "Then let’s talk about you instead."
I frowned. "What?"
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "You and Cassandra."
I blinked. "What about me and Cassandra?"
Katrina shrugged. "You’re strong. Skilled. A warrior with no past, no clear future. If you want to be an Alpha, Cassandra is your best option."