Then,the memory returned.She recalled the time she suffered internal bleeding after drinking too much with the Pack’s trade allies.The next morning,Ryder only asked the Omega servants to prepare her a common,bland soup.She had once tearfully asked him to tie her hair into a simple ponytail for her,but he had simply stated,“I do not possess the human skill for such a trivial task.”
Elara stood frozen until Ryder finally guided Lyra out of the room,their forms vanishing down the spiral staircase.
Her legs were numb,but she stubbornly refused to move.
She refused to descend and play the part of the foolish,irrelevant Claimed Mate—the useless shadow in their perfectly scripted fated love story.
Perhaps because her mind was elsewhere,lost in the icy solitude of her decision,Elara misjudged the steep,carved stairs as she finally walked down.She stumbled.Then,she fell heavily,her body thudding painfully against the polished stone steps.
“Ah!”
A sharp,searing pain exploded in her lower abdomen.She curled up on the cold ground,feeling a warm,metallic liquid—the undeniable scent of fresh blood—slowly spreading beneath her.