Chapter 72

Alistair’s POV

My gaze stayed locked on Lyra, stunned by the ferocity of her sudden outburst. One second she’d been standing there stiff and composed, and the next she spun toward Clara and let loose without warning: “You’re getting older now, Clara. You should know by now you ought to be married—so stop trying to steal somebody else’s husband. You’re just a depressed, broke, jobless lunatic looking for something to destroy. If you mess with me, you’ll regret the day you ever crossed me, you dickbag!”

I blinked in disbelief. My mind took a second to catch up with my ears. Lyra’s words had cut like a whip, sharp and precise, and I hadn’t expected her to strike so hard. Clara’s eyes brimmed with tears; she blinked rapidly and tried to speak, chest rising and falling in little jerks, but Lyra wasn’t done. She advanced and sneered, every syllable like a slap: “What makes you think Alistair would ever be attracted to a loose woman like you, who doesn’t even know hersel