#Chapter 71: Say It

Logan It was the third day of summit and I was ready to rip Michael’s throat out with my teeth. I was speaking with two minor Alphas near the hearth, half-listening to their complaints about cross-border regulations, when I heard someone say his name. Michael. The word dropped like a stone in my stomach. I turned, casual at first, then quicker, as I caught a glimpse through the long arched-window beside the grand staircase. There he was. And there she was. Emily stood near the courtyard’s low stone railing, coat tucked around her, arms crossed. Michael was angled too close, his expression far too soft. He leaned in to say something, and she didn’t flinch. I felt my body react before my mind could catch up. Heat surged under my skin, my jaw tightened, and my fingers curled against my palm until I felt my nails press into skin. Don’t. I reminded myself for the tenth time. I forced my attention back to the room. Someone said something about the wine. I nodded, said some