"My daughter and I have stripped nearly every root and herb off that hillside. Then the floods came, and even the rogues passing through can't find food. We were on the verge of starving to death. I wouldn't take her back to that place if you made me a servant in this pack."
It was laughable, really. The compound had dozens of dens and quarters, crawling with attendants and lower-ranked wolves.
And Finn claimed he couldn't spare a single room for his own mate and pup. Did he truly think I was that stupid?
In my last life, I never told him, not even on my deathbed, that my father was the Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack.
I had believed that standing by love meant something. That my devotion proved my worth.
In the end, I was nothing but a joke to them.
Five years rotting in that den, and none of it had mattered at all.
Finn's face went white. "What are you talking about? You were foraging scraps to eat? I had a hundred gold moons sent to you every moon cycle!"
I stared at him. "When did you ever send money?"
"In five years, all I received were your letters every few days. Not a single coin."