Scarlet
The late afternoon sun dipped below the treetops, casting long shadows across the pack grounds. I leaned against the wall of the library, clutching a thick stack of past reports I had been tasked to organize. The work was tedious, but it kept me occupied—and away from the confusing storm brewing inside me.
Damien and I had settled into a strange, unspoken truce. No more biting remarks or veiled hostility, no more pretenses. Instead, we coexisted in a quiet kind of understanding, exchanging occasional glances and brief words that never crossed into the territory of outright, dysfunctional friendship between past enemies.
But that didn’t stop the odd moments. Moments where he softened. Moments where I let myself forget, for just a second, the years of torment he had put me through
