I wanted to demand answers. Why did you deceive me for three years? Just because I made Lily serve as a household attendant for three days?
I wanted to tear away my clothing and show him every scar, every wound I had collected over these three years.
But in the end, I did nothing.
I watched the wolf who should have been confined in the binding den for three more days. He stood there in ceremonial attire that cost more than everything I possessed, looking every inch the ruthless Alpha Heir.
He pulled Lily—his precious little Omega—into his arms, his expression softening with adoration as he wished her a joyful birth-moon.
Then I turned away, my face revealing nothing, and made my way back to my underground den.
Dark. Damp. I had survived here for three years.
The washing alcove sat just inside the entrance. Mold crept across the walls in patches that had built up over moons and seasons. The scent of decay drifted through the stale air without warning.
When I first took shelter here, I retched every single day.
For the first twenty-five years of my life, I had been cherished. The precious firstborn daughter of the Nightveil bloodline. I had never known a day of true hardship.