Willow POV
The ride back to the pack house was a blur. Caine stayed quiet, not pushing, which I was grateful for. It meant that I made it inside before I broke.
Barely.
The door shut behind me with a quiet click, and for half a second, I thought I had managed it. That I’d put the pain, the guilt, the sheer emotion in a box, locked it, and tossed away the key. Then the box exploded.
My knees gave out, and I hit the floor hard, the impact rattling up through me. I hardly felt it. My hands came up to my head, fingers tangling in my hair as I tried to hold everything in place.
It didn’t work. It never had. The memories came anyway.
Cages full of captive fighters crowded in warehouse space. The rattle of chains as the gladiators were led from their cells to the fighting pits. Smells so in
