TAVRIC
Jaxl looks like I've just told him the sun is going to drop from the sky.
His jaw doesn't just hang—it freezes. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, go wide, reflecting a cocktail of horror and profound disbelief. He actually stumbles back a step, his hand shooting out to grip the doorframe as if the floor beneath him has become unreliable.
"You are joking," he breathes, shaking his head slowly, his voice a ragged shadow of its usual self. "You just gotta be joking, Tavric. Tell me this is a sick play."
I exhale slowly, the full weight of the admission settling into my bones. I turn away from his searching gaze, unable to look at the mirror of my own anxieties staring back at me. "I'm not. Ryker has claimed her."
The jagged intake of his breath is loud in the quiet hallway.
For a heartbeat, I close my eyes. A cold trickle of worry moves down my spine, one I don't bother trying to stop.
