Even the children of the pack treated me with disdain. They threw stones and laughed as I hurried about my tasks, their taunts echoing in my ears. But it was nothing compared to the torment I faced from Alpha Luther.
"How dare you have the same face as my angel?" He spat one evening, his eyes blazing with hatred. His words cut deeper than any physical wound. Every time he saw me, it was as if he was reminded of the loss of Victoria, and his fury knew no bounds.
"Get out of my sight, you wretch!" He roared, and I would scurry away, his voice chasing me like a nightmare.
One particularly brutal winter night, I was summoned to the Alpha's quarters. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol as I entered, my heart pounding in my chest. Luther sat slumped at his table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey before him.
"Pour me some more," he slurred, his eyes glazed over. I hesitated for a moment, then quickly moved to obey, my hands trembling as I poured the golden liquid into his glass.
As I turned to leave, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. "Victoria..." he murmured, his eyes focusing on my face. "You're back..."