POV: Ryan
The torches spat and cracked, their smoke curling through the night air, thick with the musk of wolves and the weight of expectation.
The elders sat in their carved thrones, rigid as if stone had seeped into their bones. They thought this was power. That a circle of fire and a few guarded daughters would be enough to bend me back into their fold.
But they didn’t know me anymore.
I had survived the mafia wars, the streets, the sleepless years. I had lived through betrayals, blood, and the gnawing ache of being unwanted. Their arrogance couldn’t reach me.
Still… that memory wouldn’t leave me.
A small girl in the woods. Doe-brown eyes. My arms around her trembling body, whispering safety I barely believed in myself.
The memory made my chest burn, made me stagger for a breath.
