Draven.
I stood by the doorway to Xamira's room, watching Dorothy tie her hair into a soft ponytail with a pink ribbon. The child looked calm—too calm.
"Dorothy," I said quietly.
She turned immediately, startled. "Alpha—yes, sir."
"Leave us."
She gave a nervous bow and quickly slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her.
Xamira sat on the edge of her bed, her small fingers fiddling in her lap. Her eyes were cast downward, lashes shadowing her cheeks. She looked nothing like the bright, joyful daughter I had raised.
"Look at me," I said.
Slowly, she raised her head.
"Tell me the truth. Did you push my wife into the pool?"
A moment passed. Two. Then she nodded.
My jaw clenched. I folded my arms across my chest. "Why?"
"I…" She sniffled. "I was just playing."
"You call that playing?"
"I didn't know she couldn't swim…"
"But you knew you pushed her. You knew it might scare her. You just didn't care enough to think past the moment."
