The past few days had felt like a haze, with time slipping by in a series of blurred moments. Each day seemed to bleed into the next, one indistinguishable from the other. I had distanced myself from everyone, and locked myself away in my room, wanting nothing to do with the pack. This place wasn’t home. It never would be, no matter how hard they tried to convince me otherwise.
The walls felt both too close and far too empty. My world had shrunk down to this room, with its heavy curtains and soft bed, but it didn’t offer the safety I craved. Even in isolation, I felt suffocated by the weight of my thoughts, and the burden of my decisions. I was fighting a war with myself, one that I knew I was slowly losing.
I thought often of Diago. His face haunted my dreams. I could still see the betr
