IVY
The cool porcelain of the bathroom door pressed against my back, the damp cloth and jar of honey lying uselessly beside me.
I hadn’t just uncovered the truth; the truth had broken me.
A cursed reincarnation of a witch.
The phrase echoed in the small, silent room. Hunt’s cold, triumphant face flashed in my mind. He hadn’t even needed to lie; the reality was far worse than any cruel trick Erica could have devised. My mother died because of me, because she took in a curse she had called a blessing. The pack members who bled from every pore, the mothers who lost their sons, they all died because of me.
Tears slid down my cheeks in a silent, gut-wrenching way. I didn’t sob; I simply leaked, a broken vessel spilling its poison. A heavy, viscous, and suffocating guilt clung to me. It did
