I grunted, laughing humorlessly. "So that's what this is, huh?" I gestured wildly at Father. "You're just using us as bargaining chips in some werewolf Monopoly game?"
My father raised a brow, unbothered. "It is called strategy, Axel."
"Yeah?" I let out a sharp breath. "It's called selling your children, Padre."
He scoffed. "Don Diego's daughters are of good stock. You are not suffering."
I gave him a deadpan look. "Oh, thank God. Here I was thinking I was being emotionally manipulated into a forced marriage for your financial gain, but no, I'm just getting a great deal. Phew. What a relief."
His eyes darkened a little, but before he could unleash another monologue on duty and sacrifice, I shook my head, standing my ground.
"I still want to take my time," I said firmly. "This is too much, too fast."
I expected at least a pause. A moment of reflection.
Instead, my father's expression remained stone-cold. "No. This is happening."
I blinked. "What?"
