AZALEA’S POV
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There isn’t an specific reason for why I’m wearing what I am. Black halter top, black skirt, gold belt, gold earrings, gold dainty necklace, black stilettos.
Screw that.
I want Bexley to see me being me before she takes her last breath.
That’s the reason I’m wearing what I am.
I want her to beg, to plead with the little energy she’ll have left after, I presume, her biggest tantrum yet.
I told Corbin to take her to the Alpha’s hall, the hall where a pack meeting takes place. It’s big. It has a throne like chair— and whoever wants to watch, can.
Crossing my one leg over the other as I sit on the large throne like chair. The back is made out of steel in the shape of lightning bolts, it stretches up above my head, the cushion part black as the void I feel in my chest, a
