KATHERINE POV
I've never been in the pack’s dungeons before.
Not here, anyway.
The Bloodhound pack’s dungeons were a nightmare: cramped, dark, always reeking of wet fur, mold, and dried blood. The walls had been cracked and blackened with dampness, and the screams… Goddess, the screams never left you.
And for me, they weren’t just a place.
They were a memory.
A scar.
It all started with him.
Twelve years old. Just a kid.
He told me there were puppies down there—strays someone had abandoned near the edge of the woods. Said they were cold. Scared. Alone.
He knew I wouldn’t ignore something like that.
I remember clutching a ratty blanket in my arms as I followed him down the twisting stone staircase. I wasn’t scared. Jonas was charming, strong, my Alpha’s heir. My… friend. Or so I
