My arms, shoulders, and back were a canvas of scars, words carved into my skin like a twisted tattoo.
When I first got thrown into that cell, I prayed Damian would come for me. Every time they tortured me, I clung to the pain, scratching his name-and mine-into my flesh with my nails to keep going. One year, three years, Six. my name faded away, scratched out, until it was just Damian, Damian, Damian.
I stopped hoping we'd ever meet again. His name became my lifeline, the only thing keeping me alive. But now, that lifeline had crumbled, and I was too broken to piece it back together.
Under the shower's spray, I broke down, sobbing until my voice gave out.
That night, my body still aching, they dragged me out to serve drinks. Laughter and mockery buzzed around me like flies. I just kept pouring liquor down my throat, glass after glass. Meanwhile, Brielle was tucked safely in Damian's arms, his voice soft and careful as he tended to her.
He barked orders at me-fetch this, deliver that. My steps faltered, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. By the end of the night, after seeing everyone off, I collapsed by a flowerbed, vomiting until the world spun. Damian stood nearby, his face twisted with disgust, and tossed a wad of cash at me.
"Pick it up. Clean yourself off," he said.
I pressed down my trembling hand, gathering the bills-my payment-without a word. I couldn't go back to that place. It was too filthy. I had to vanish clean, not a single bone left behind.
Damian and Brielle's binding ceremony was coming up fast, and he dumped all the prep work on me.
"Brielle covets the moonstone pendant from the pack auction-mined from the heart of our sacred mountain, infused with a century of alpha essence. Secure it, even if you have to bleed for it."
"The grove setup reeks of rogue stench. Tear it down. She wants the bonding ritual on the silverlake yacht, its hull carved with our bloodline runes."
"Brielle's taken with Juliet roses, grown only in the valley where the moon kisses the soil. Fly in crates fresh from dawn's harvest, drown every corner in their scent-strong enough to mask any trace of lesser wolves. The venison tartare and elderflower mead must be aged to her liking, no substitutions. She's carrying the next Wolfe heir; nothing less than perfection will do."
I ran myself ragged every day, jumping to meet their endless demands. At night, I was Damian's tool to vent his rage. Mornings, I could barely drag myself out of bed.
I put together their entire binding ceremony, but when the day came, it wasn't me standing on that stage. Brielle, arm in arm with Damian, soaked up every gaze in the room. The crowd's praise filled my ears, but I was tucked away in a corner, untouched by the light. Exhausted from the grind, my eyes drifted shut.
I dreamed of my own binding ceremony with Damian. His eyes, deep and full of love, pulled me in like a tide. He slid a ring onto my finger, slow and deliberate.
"You're mine now," he'd said, voice warm. "Unless I'm dead, we're bound forever."
The crowd's howls of blessing rippled through the clearing-prayers to the moon for a lifetime of shared hunts, an eternity of intertwined scents.
In the dream, my lips should've curled into a wolfish smile, but my cheeks were soaked with tears that steamed against my skin.
How could a dying she-wolf measure up to the heavens?
My lycanthropic heart was slowing, each beat a faint thump against my ribs.
Moments like this-standing shoulder to shoulder beneath the moon, our shadows merging as one-had scattered like smoke on the wind, gone for good.
When I woke, Brielle was sitting across from me.
"Emily, it's been a while," she said, swirling a wine glass, her eyes looking down on me like I was dirt. "I don't get it. You're sitting here, crying like a pup, but back then, why'd you do it?"
I scrambled to wipe away the tears from my dream, my hands shaking. Her gaze brought it all back-the bullying, the nightmares that never left.
"You didn't see this coming, did you?" she went on, her voice icy.
"Damian stood up for you back then, but now? He's in love with me. How could he ever want someone as weak and boring as you? Good thing you dug your own grave."
I kept my head down, my left hand clamping my trembling right. "I won't. get in your way," I rasped.
She scoffed.
"Not here to crawl back to him? Then why show up?"
Before I could answer, she tipped her glass, splashing red wine all over her gown.
Her face shifted to panic, and she shrieked, "Emily!"
