He stormed over to me, his towering figure casting a long shadow that seemed to swallow me whole. “The Moon Goddess must be mistaken. Even if Gloria is dead, she’s the only one I’d ever acknowledge as my mate. Not you—a worthless, weak slave!”
I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt like they were collapsing under the weight of his words, his hatred. I kept my head down, tears slipping onto my trembling hands, mixing with the dirt and grime. 'What did I ever do to deserve this?' I lost everything—my parents, my sister, my pack—and now I was losing even the last shreds of my dignity.
Lucas’s voice rose, echoing in the great hall, each word a knife digging into my flesh. “I will never accept a slave as my mate. Never.”
I was trembling, not from fear but from something that had been building inside me for so long—anger. I was tired. Tired of being stepped on, spat at, degraded. Tired of being nothing but a shadow of my sister. 'Why was I born to suffer this?'