Electra's POV
I couldn't believe what I had just heard.
Actually—no, scratch that. I refused to believe it.
Yura Ashwyn, that quiet little nobody in the oversized green sweater, had really just stood there, looked me in the eye, and told me that if I wanted her to join the team, I'd have to get on my knees and apologize. To her.
For nearly drowning her, sure, but still.
I scoffed as loudly as I could, letting the sound hang in the air between us like a slap. Seraphina flinched, and Irina muttered something under her breath, but I didn't care. My blood was hot. My pride, hell, my entire being, was practically twitching from the insult.
Who the hell did Yura think she was?
Yes, I'd done what I did back then, and I could understand the resentment since I did almost kill her, but I thought she would at the very least be ready to be civil enough to get through one damn tournament. Apparently, I was wrong.
