CHAPTER 41: THE PERFECT SLAP

MAEVE'S POV

 

MAEVE'S POV

 

His hand hovered in the air for a heartbeat longer before it dropped to his side. For a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—pain, maybe. Guilt.

 

But I didn't care enough to know.

 

Without waiting for more of Revierrie's excuses, or for the stunned, judgmental stares of the other witnesses, I turned on my heels and stormed out of the sacred grounds.

 

Everything was too loud. My heart. My nerves. The noise around me.

 

It was a typhoon of a hundred emotions, a hundred sounds, all crashing into each other in waves.

 

Despite that, I found my way into the hallway, ignoring the few stunned side-looks from the guards stationed outside.