Chapter 37

Syria’s POV

I froze.

"Kael," I called out his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward me. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tense, and his eyes, those eyes, narrowed into sharp slits as they locked on me. He looked like he was about to explode from the inside.

"So does that mean you were just meant to fucking use me?" he growled, his voice low, dangerously low, right against my lips.

And just like that, the thrill I had been feeling, this overwhelming rush of justice and revenge I'd been riding ever since I finally managed to get back at my aunt for all those years of abuse, it vanished. Completely.

Looking into Kael’s eyes, I felt tension crawl down my spine like ice. His gaze was soul-piercing. It was the kind of look that told me he was holding back something dark. Like he wanted to break me apart, but he was struggling to restrain himself.

And honestly? I couldn’t blame him.

He was right. I used him. That