One final message followed:
"Sister, Fenris told me you spent two weeks designing this ring yourself. Every little detail represents your hopes for a beautiful mating bond. Do you not think it suits me perfectly? It is like it was made for me all along."
Lyra's fingertip hovered over the glowing surface. A faint sting flickered through her chest—so quick it might have been imagined.
She knew exactly what Selene was doing. Sending these images served two purposes: flaunt Fenris's favoritism, and provoke her into a humiliating meltdown that would give Selene even more ammunition.
Once, seeing this would have sent her wolf into a frenzy. She would have fought back, even if it destroyed them both, just to demand an explanation from her intended mate.
But now? Her travel chest was already half-packed in secret. One moon-cycle until she escaped this cage. These wolves, this life—they were already part of a past she was cutting away like dead flesh from a wound.
Her expression did not change as she tapped the surface. Her finger did not hesitate.
Three words, as casual as commenting on the weather: "Yes, lovely."