I followed, but my thoughts roared louder than my legs could move. Accusations of my supposed cruelty to Brielle spun in my mind like a cyclone. He didn’t even glance back as he mounted his sleek black wolf-car and vanished into the night.
I reached for the passenger’s seat, but the door slammed shut with a growl as the car accelerated away, leaving me sprawled against the cold stone ground. My cheeks burned—not with the slap, but with humiliation—while the packhands lingering nearby exchanged whispers and furtive glances, as though I were some marked prey.
I summoned a carriage and returned to our den. Tears streamed freely as I looked upon the home we had shared for half a decade. Its halls echoed emptiness, mirroring the hollowness gnawing at my chest. How could Gideon assume so readily that I had harmed her, when the fall had been entirely her own doing?