He turns me around, resting both hands on my shoulders. His expression hardens. “They have the capacity for it, Violet. That’s what matters.”
“We all have the capacity for violence.”
“Not like this.” His jaw tightens. “The attacks were deranged in nature. The strength of a hybrid is three times that of a normal shifter. You can’t wait around to find out if they’ll snap.”
I recoil at his statement.
I know I should drop this. I don’t know any hybrids. This doesn’t affect me. But the image of a child being hunted for something they can’t control makes my stomach turn.
“What about children?” The words escape before I can stop them. “What if there’s a child somewhere who doesn’t even know what they are yet?”
“Violet—” His tone holds a warning.
But I can’t stop. “They’re killed? Without ever having a chance?”
His fingers tighten on my shoulders. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. I’ve seen the aftermath. Shifter children torn apart. Families slaughtered.” His eyes bore into mine. “I won’t apologize for protecting our people.”
My throat constricts. He’s right; I wasn’t there. I didn’t see what he saw. But the thought of condemning someone for what they might become, rather than what they’ve done, doesn’t sit right with me.
“Why does this matter to you so much?” he demands. “You’ve never met a hybrid. You have no connection to them.”
“I don’t know.” My voice comes out smaller than usual. “It just feels wrong.”
He stares at me for a long moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. Then, he releases me and steps back, finally creating some distance between us.
But the loss of his touch feels like rejection.
“You have a soft heart,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a compliment. “The world isn’t kind to soft hearts, Violet.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Maybe not. But I’d rather have a soft heart than no heart at all.”
He flinches.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I want to take back what I said, but it’s true. And maybe he needed to hear it.
“I’m not heartless,” he says quietly, dangerously. “I’m practical. There are very few hybrids left now. Some packs have chosen to protect them.” He pauses. “I think they’re fools. But it’s their choice to make.”
“And your choice is to kill them on sight.”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No regret.
My chest aches. This is the man I’m falling for? Someone who can look me in the eye and tell me he’d execute a child withoutflinching?
“We don’t have to agree on this,” I say finally, though the words taste bitter.
“No.” He watches me carefully. “We don’t.”
But the distance between us feels wider now. Like something has changed that we can’t change back.
He steps forward and takes my face in his hands, tilting it up so he can look me in the eyes. “Let’s go to dinner.”
I hesitate. The logical part of me says to pull away, to put space between us until I can sort through what I’m feeling. The fact that our conversation ended with the issue unresolved bothers me.
But he is looking at me like I matter. Like my opinion matters, even if he disagrees with it. And that’s more than most people in my life have ever done for me.
Maybe I’m making excuses. Maybe I’m justifying my feelings for him when I shouldn’t. But I’m tired of fighting myself every time I want something.
“Okay,” I say softly.
