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Plenty of things still made little sense to Naia—like their impending war in the city, or why Finnian would target someone from the Himura clan bloodline—but she didn’t agree with how ruthless Ronin depicted her brother to be.

And before she could catch the ingrained reaction to defend the sibling who, not less than a few hours ago, had abandoned her, she glowered at Ronin. “I don’t believe you. Finny isn’t cruel.”

“That’s fine,” Ronin said matter-of-factly, with a cynical bite in his tone. “Believe the one who fed you to wolves over the one who didn’t think twice to fight for you.”

The weight of his words hit her like a spear, penetrating deep into her chest.

Ronin stalked to the door, only to pause with his grip securely wrapped around the knob.

He angled his head to align with his shoulder. “Watch her,” he said in Theon’s direction.

Theon took a step. “I don’t think?—”

Ronin shot him a fierce look that silenced his disputes.

Theon’s shoulders slumped with a loud exhale through his mask as Ronin left out of the room with Avi on his heels.

Naia ground her jaws, tears welling in her eyes from what felt like a bruise aching in her heart.

Damn him. He was right, and she desperately wanted to hate him for it.

The sight of the stodgy colored walls of Ronin’s office blurred. She sank back down on the couch in defeat, and a current of Ronin’s cologne rushed up her nose. It prompted her to shift around and search for the source.

Beneath her was the jacket to Ronin’s suit.

She worked it free out from under her and draped it over her legs. The remaining portion of her rage towards him drained away, like water through her fingers, and transitioned into a benevolent softness as she imagined him spreading it over her while she was unconscious.

Her hand went to her bracelet. She spun it in slow circles, finding an odd consolation in doing so.

Apart from Finnian and their father, Ronin was someone who had helped her when she needed it the most. He filled her with a deep sense of security, like a soft blanket wrapping around her soul, and she craved to give in and rest into it.

It never works out. Finnian stood by you once upon a time, too.

And she would’ve bet the world on her little brother.

Silent and mournful tears streamed down her cheeks. They dampened the underside of her neck as she kept replaying those excruciating seconds right before Finnian summoned Malik.

A thick sob pushed out of her.

After everything we’ve been through. How could he do this to me?

It felt as if Naia’s love consistently surpassed those around her in astonishing capacities. Did their adoration for her eventually decay and crumble? Or grow stagnant until they forgot her?

Beyond her sadness, her rage was a match striking a trail of gasoline and amalgamating in her veins. The memory kept replaying—the soft touch of Finnian’s palm, the tilt of his head, void of the compassion she used to receive.

Liar.

It was plenty for her to see well over her fear and insecurities of going off alone.

On impulse, she swiftly rose from the cushion and marched past her designated bodyguard for the door.

He caught up to her in stride. “Where are you going?”

Through clenched teeth, she replied, “To find my brother.”

She stormed out of the brewery and down the back alley across the street, barely comprehending her surroundings. Her vision was painted red.

Theon followed behind her. “It’s not wise.”