You Must Run

Killorn couldn't even look her in the eyes. His shame and remorse tied his tongue. He couldn't speak a single word to her—not even an apology. This proud and arrogant man had never lowered his shoulders, even when he was the weakest son.

Killorn was a Duke by nature, title, and blood. He had no income as a boy, was ridiculed and insulted by high society, but never once begged for their help. His own brothers turned their back on him when he was a young wolf. Now, they were dead.

His father was not a kind man. He was greedy and spent more money on his mistresses than on his dukedom. The Dukedom under his father's regime had greatly starved, with an alarming rate of death. They barely got by with potatoes and the servants were given the peels.

Even then, Killorn never begged for help. He grew up stubborn, and now, he did just as he feared—harmed his own wife.

"You don't mean it," Killorn murmured whilst reaching for her.