HARLOW
For the past week, Stephanie made Blackwoods pack a living hell. No, she made my life a living hell. On a daily basis, she kept reminding me that Devon would never be mine, recited it like a precious little poem, making me remember every bit of it. She made me clear the gardens, remove thorns and scrub her feet every f*****g day.
She'd call me even when she didn't need me.
It was her desire to make my whole life miserable.
I got more cuts and bruises on my arms than when Devon was here.
Stephanie flinged a white dress at me, a fabric I'd continue to remember even till the end of time. I held it in my hands and stared at the familiar sack wear I hadn't worn for a long time, “The Lycan king stopped me from wearing this.”
“Well, you're going to have to wear it for me. We're
