Evelynn POV
The packhouse loomed like a ghost in the half-light - half-ruin, half-memory. Its stone walls were blackened but unbroken, defiant even in death of . Smoke curled through shattered windows like restless spirits, and every step closer felt like walking into my own grave.
"This place remembers you", my wolf murmured, her voice a tremor inside me. "It remembers what you were."
“I know.” I whispered, though the words burned my throat. “But I’m not her anymore.”
The front doors groaned when I pushed them open. Inside, the air was thick - a mix of ash, damp soot, and something older. Regret, maybe. The scent of burned oak and blood hit me in waves, stirring fragments of the past I didn’t want.
A flash of laughter. The echo of footsteps on marble floors. A younger version of me,
