-LILIAN-
The word still tasted like ash in my mouth: monster. I had said it to him. Alexander, the Alpha King. The man who had broken me. The man who still held me captive in his lavish prison. The memory of his face, stunned and pale, before he stormed out, played on a loop in my mind. A tiny, cold flicker of satisfaction sparked within me. I had hurt him. Not with claws or fangs, but with words. My words.
But the relief was short-lived. My body still aches. My legs, those traitorous limbs, still refused to obey. Every day, the healers came, gently but firmly trying to make me move. Master Borin, his voice always calm, would talk me through the exercises.
"Lift... little," he'd say, his hand under my knee, helping me bend.
I would strain, sweat, clench my fists, willing my leg to resp
