Lady Freya. As if he didn’t know every detail of my life. As if he hadn’t held me on the bathroom floor when I lost my mother’s castle in court and cried until I couldn’t breathe. He picked up his sketchbook carefully, wiping it like it was something precious.
I swallowed my pain and said, “Tomorrow is an event I’m organizing. You will follow me as my warrior.”
“Will Lady Gwyneth attend?”
My heart tore apart.
“W-What? It’s a tribute for my mother … for her death anniversary! Why would I invite her?!”
Gareth’s expression darkened instantly, not out of respect for my mother. But it was because I insulted Gwyneth.
“Follow me tomorrow. That is an order,” I said, turning away as my throat burned.
Then, just loud enough for me to hear, he murmured, “She’s still chasing me… thinks one night in my bed changed anything. It’s pathetic.”
I stopped. Gareth didn’t know I heard. He didn’t care if I had.
To him, I was nothing but a stepping stone. I left the door wide open behind me.
Let the cold wind sweep in. Let the truth settle over everything. My story in this pack was ending.
And I was walking away from the chaos.