Chapter 133: She’s still recovering. I can help her bathe, it’s not an issue
Cyrus’ soft voice had barely landed when Kian’s "No" cut through the air like a blade dipped in ice.
Both Isabella and Cyrus turned to him—equally surprised, equally caught off guard—but for different reasons.
Kian didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He simply stood there like a carved statue of restraint, his eyes locked on Isabella’s, expression unreadable. The shadows clung to the sharp lines of his jaw as if even the light was hesitant to touch him.
"No... what?" Isabella asked slowly, her voice not quite hers, not quite anyone’s. Something tight settled in her chest—tight enough to make breathing feel effortful.
Kian didn’t answer.
Instead, he took a step forward.
It was small, quiet, and casual—yet it rang in her bones like thunder. Her back stiffened, toes curling instinctively into the furs beneath her feet. Every nerve felt suddenly raw, her skin prickling with invisible heat.
Cyrus frowned gently, a silent question furrowing his brow as his gaze flicked between the two of them. "Kian," he said, voice calm but edged with tension, "she’s still recovering. I can help her bathe, it’s not an issue."
Isabella’s head whipped around so fast she nearly unbalanced herself.
Help her bathe?
Her brain did a full reboot. A very dramatic one. If she were holding a teacup, it would’ve shattered. If she were chewing gum, it would’ve flown out her mouth.