The moment Isabella saw Zyran step out the village entrance, her stomach dropped to her knees.
Because of all the people in this world who could have been the first to see her, fate decided to punish her by gifting her with Zyran.
Zyran, the black panther.
Zyran, the psychopath.
Zyran, the king of jealousy.
Zyran, the man whose face was never peaceful unless he was causing violence.
He stood there like a storm in human form, his long dark hair falling over his shoulders, his red eyes glowing with something feral. The moment he saw her in Osiris' arms, his expression twisted so violently that even the air trembled.
Isabella's soul sighed.
Of course.
Of course he was the first one to appear.
Why would the universe ever give her peace.
She barely had time to react before Ophelia, her sweet, round cheeked, warm hearted friend came running out from the crowd like a ball of sunshine with legs.
