Naomi’s pov :
The mansion's library had become my sanctuary, or prison. I sat curled in an overstuffed armchair, a forgotten book on werewolf lore open on my lap, but my eyes stared unseeing at the pages.
One day left. Darius's deadline loomed like a guillotine, the vial of poison still hidden in my drawer upstairs, untouched but burning in my mind. Panic had given way to a cold clarity overnight: I couldn't do it. Wouldn't. The bond with Elias pulsed steadily in my chest, a warm anchor that had twisted from forced fate into something real, love, gods help me. His touches, his rare smiles, the way he'd cared for me through my "illness"... it all outweighed the coercion. Darius's threats? They'd break me, yes, but killing Elias would shatter my soul.
Prioritizing our growing conn
