[Three years ago.]
Cruden remembered the exact moment Roselia captured his attention. Long before the wedding just months prior, long before any of her criminal bullsh*t. It was the eve of her eighteenth birthday when he'd decide once and for all if he were to marry her. If she wanted out, he'd grant it to her immediately.
"She's wolfless," Kallum muttered under his breath, irritated and overstimulated by all the endless chatter in one of the biggest banquets of the year.
The celebration was in full swing. The music was lively, the guests animated, but the true centerpiece of the evening had yet to appear.
"No sh*t," Cruden deadpanned.
Kallum rolled his eyes. "You found this out two years ago when she was sixteen. I'm asking, why are we even here?"