Betrayed.

She had betrayed him, and Iwin could feel himself losing the ability to control his breathing.

“Iwin—it was for the best—“ Isabelle’s face was round with worry.

The seventeen-year-old, nearly eighteen now, felt the way his heart began rapidly pounding against his rib cage. His hands had begun to shake, and Giselle stepped forward. “Iwin—it won’t matter—you’ll thank me later—“

Iwin couldn’t see, couldn’t feel himself breathing. He was falling...felt like his brain was flooding with…thoughts, stuff, rubbish—he could have saved her—

“She was mine, too,” was all he managed to choke out.