I had no more family.
No more love.
Nothing.
But my wolf refused to give in. She wanted to fight. She wanted the truth.
I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.
The damage was already done.
Soon, I’d lose my sight completely. The trauma of that day—the acid thrown at my face, the way my skull cracked against the stone floor—had left wounds my wolf couldn't heal.
And Marcus… If he had truly been loyal to me, maybe I wouldn't be this broken.
They put me in a small room near the servants’ quarters. I almost laughed. This was how much they despised me. They never saw me as their daughter.
At least it had a bed.
Unlike the freezing prison cell where I had to sleep on the floor, waiting for death. Not even my parents had sent me a blanket during those brutal winters.
The only warmth I ever received came from an unknown person. A thick coat. A heavy blanket.
"A murderer doesn’t deserve comfort," the guards had sneered.
A murderer.
Was I?
There were nights I almost believed it—almost wished it was true, just so the pain could end.
But it wouldn’t.
I barely slept. This new room was just another prison.
What was the point of staying here?
No one wanted me.