Page 23 of Savage Loyalty

“If this is about my father?—”

“It’s not,” I cut her off, my voice cold and flat.

The words hit her like a slap, and for the briefest moment, something cracked in her expression. Confusion, maybe. Or recognition.

“This is about you,” I continued my tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her arms tightened across her chest, her nails digging into the soft fabric of her jacket like it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hazel eyes locked on mine, sharp and defiant, but there was something else beneath the surface—something she was working damn hard to hide.

“Me?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly, disbelief coloring the word. “I’ve got nothing to do with this.”

I let out a chuckle, low and humorless, the sound cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade. The sound made her shoulders stiffen, a tell she probably didn’t even realize she’d given me.

“You’re Cruz’s daughter,” I said, my tone deliberate, almost mocking. I didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “That’s enough.”

Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding just enough to make the muscle at her temple flicker. Good.

I stepped closer, slow and measured, my boots heavy against the floorboards. Each step pressed down on the silence between us, making it thicker and heavier, until the air itself felt like it might collapse in on her.

I stopped directly in front of her, just close enough to see the faint pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Her breathing was steady and measured, but I could see the cracks forming. She was wound tight, a coil ready to spring, but she didn’t have a plan. Not yet.

“You grew up in this life,” I said, my voice quieter now but no less sharp. “You know what your name means. What it means to us.”

Her hazel eyes burned with fire, brighter now, even as her body betrayed her. There was tension in her shoulders, in the way she clenched her arms tighter across her chest like she could protect herself from whatever was coming.

“What it means,” she said, her voice steady but with a tremor buried deep, “is that I’m not part of this anymore. I left. Years ago.”

“Sure, you did,” I said, tilting my head slightly as I studied her. My gaze moved slowly, deliberately, from her clenched jaw to the way her boots shifted on the floor like she was weighing her chances of bolting.

“And yet,” I continued, my smirk cold and deliberate, “here you are. Back in the middle of it.”

Her jaw clenched harder, her teeth grinding audibly now. “My father died,” she bit out, her voice sharper this time, cutting through the tension like a knife. “I came back to bury him.”

“Of course you did.” I raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air like smoke. “And now you’re tangled in more than grief, Delilah. Whether you wanted it or not.”

Her lips parted, a retort ready to fire, but she hesitated, just for a moment. It was small—barely noticeable—but it was there.

“This isn’t my fight,” she said finally, her voice quieter now like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

I tilted my head again, letting my smirk widen just enough to make her bristle. “You think the world gives a damn what you think? Your last name puts you in this fight, whether you like it or not. Axel knows it. The Serpents know it. And now, so do we.”

Her eyes flashed, her defiance flaring up again, but I could see the cracks forming. The fire in her gaze wasn’t enough to hide the fear that was starting to seep through the edges.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, her voice dropping to something colder, something sharper.

I stepped closer again, close enough to see the faint tremble in her hands as she tightened them into fists. “I know enough,” I said, my voice low and deliberate. “I know you left because you couldn’t handle it. I know you’ve spent every day since trying to pretend you’re not who you are. And I know,” I leaned in slightly, my gaze locking onto hers, “that being back here is tearing you apart.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t back away, but her breathing changed—quicker now, shallower. She was cracking.

Her arms tightened across her chest, her nails digging into the soft fabric of her jacket like it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hazel eyes locked onto mine, sharp and defiant, but there was something else beneath the surface—something raw and unguarded like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.

She was wound tight, a coil ready to spring, her defiance palpable in every inch of her posture. But it wasn’t enough. She didn’t have a plan—not yet.

“You grew up in this life,” I said, my voice quieter now but no less sharp, like the edge of a blade pressing against her defenses. “You know what your name means. What it means to us.”

Her hazel eyes burned with fire, brighter now, as if she thought she could burn through me with sheer force of will. There was strength in that gaze, a kind of feral determination, but it wasn’t invincible. I could see the exhaustion lurking in the corners of her expression, the weight of everything pressing down on her.

Her glare didn’t waver, but I saw it—the flicker of doubt, the realization creeping into her mind like a slow poison.

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