GINA’S POV
The moment I stepped out of Klaus’s office, I made a vow to myself—don’t look back.
If I did… if I turned around and saw him standing there, his cold, unreadable eyes watching me walk away like I was nothing more than an inconvenience, I would shatter. And I refused to give him that satisfaction. Not again.
My heels struck the polished wooden floors of the pack house with sharp, deliberate clicks, each step a battle against the tremor in my legs. The air smelled of cedar and old leather, the scent of power and tradition—everything Klaus valued more than the truth. More than us.
I made it outside, the crisp evening air biting at my skin, before my knees finally buckled.
The stone steps were unforgiving beneath me, their icy surface seeping through the thin fabric of my dress
