Those words cut deeper than any prison sentence.
Charlene had never trusted me. None of them had.
Now, Phyllis poured a glass of my favorite berry wine and handed it to me with a smile. “Thanks,” I mumbled, doing everything I could to pretend nothing was wrong.
“I’ll make it up to you, Louise,” he said, noticing my hands still trembled. He gently took the knife and began slicing my beef for me. “I regret not coming to see you. The pack... there were too many obligations.”
“Why are your hands shaking like that?” he asked, concerned, eyes narrowing.
“My time behind bars wasn’t exactly kind,” I answered, my voice flat and hollow as I sipped the wine. “There were nights I wanted to end everything. But thinking of you kept me going. I clung to the thought that one day, the truth would surface.” I met his gaze directly. “That one letter you sent? I must have read it thousands of times. It was the only thing that gave me a reason to live.”
Phyllis froze. His knife stopped midway through the meat. His expression darkened with something unreadable. “What happened to you in there?”
I paused, unsure if I should even answer.