Dax POV “Ronon, may I speak with you in private?” I asked quietly, trying to steer him away from Lyra, who stood like a cornered animal—rigid, silent, yet daring anyone to come closer. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he turned those storm-filled eyes on me, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind. “Do not try to talk me out of this. Dax,” he muttered, voice low. strAined, but edged with unfiltered rage. “That bitch could never be half the woman Stasia was. I’d be giving up everything if I accepted the bond with her.” I flinched inwardly. That wasn’t grief speaking anymore—it was fury fermented into cruelty. So I linked him silently, hoping I could reach him that way. “She’s afraid of you, Ronon.” His mental response came sharp and cold: “Good. She better know her place.” My stomach turned. Then he stepPed forward, squaring his shoulders, and Unleashed all that poison he had been bottling up. “You ungrateful bitch. I buy you things you
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