But it wasn’t until my mother’s ashes were buried that he finally responded, his words dripping with cold indifference. "We can get married any day, but she can't live without me."
Instead of texting back, I left my last message through the mind-link. "Trent, let's take a break." With that, I blocked him, severing the last tie between us.
For seven years, I had chased him, loved him, and molded myself to his desires, my inner wolf growling in dissatisfaction. When he said he liked short hair, I sheared my wild mane without hesitation. When he complained about my size, I starved myself, denying my natural hunger even as my strength waned. When I needed him most, I faced the pain of transformation alone, fearing he’d find me weak or, worse, needy.
But Winona’s presence was a constant thorn in my side. No matter what I did, he would always be by her side, telling me, "You're strong, Niana. You don't need me like she does." My strength, once a source of pride, became the excuse he used to abandon me every time, over and over again.