Jack's eyes on Elara were the sort of thing that made you wonder if punching a Duke's son could be reclassified as community service.
I didn't like it.
'Disgusting,' I thought.
But I didn't move. Not yet. I just watched him, because the thing about someone who hides behind smiles is that they always forget—their eyes still tell the truth.
And right now, Jack's eyes were brimming with that old familiar arrogance. The kind that usually ends up being outlived by a brick wall or karma on a deadline. It wasn't just confidence—it was the absolute certainty of someone who thought the world had been gift-wrapped specifically for them, complete with a bow made of everyone else's compliance.
"Well," Jack said, cocking his head like someone performing the idea of civility, "since we don't share any events, I suppose we'll only find out at the finale, won't we?"
"We will," I nodded, my tone so even it could have been used to level shelves.
