Aurélie POV
“And not the fact that you haven’t truly gotten over Damien.”
Fabrice’s words hit me like a slap, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs. My fingers curl instinctively, balling into tight fists on my thighs as if that alone could keep the fury from clawing up my throat, from overtaking my wolf.
“Gotten over Damien?” The disbelief twists out of me in a bitter laugh, a sneer scraping along my tongue. If my hands weren’t anchored to my lap, they would already be tangled in my hair, trying to pull out the image that flashes behind my eyes
The silver blade gleaming in the dim light.
The same blade buried in my mother’s chest.
My father’s severed head lying mere feet away, his blood soaking into the soil of our home.
The nausea rises so fast it burns, sour and sharp, and
