MARIE
Livia didn’t hide her shock when I told her I was leaving again. This time for good.
She stared at me like I had grown another head. “Again?” she asked softly. “You’re not even settling in. You said you liked being here.”
I smiled. A small one. The kind that didn’t reach the eyes.
My parents had begged me to. My mother had held my hands, her eyes wet, asking what she had done wrong. My father had tried logic, then anger, then silence. None of it moved me.
If they ever found out the truth, I wouldn’t just be leaving the city. I would be pushed out of the family.
Leaving on my own terms felt better.
Protecting them this way felt cleaner.
The dining hall smelled of food I couldn’t taste. The pack house was alive as always, wolves moving in and out, voices low, footsteps steady,
