Namiko’s POV
I should have known not to hold on to hope. Hope is such a fragile thing.
It slips into your chest like a seed, rooting in the cracks left by trauma and cold nights. You want to nurture it, to believe in something better. Even when your hands are still shaking from what happened before.
I’d only been in the Alpha King’s pack for a week.
Seven days of uneasy peace. Of walking on eggshells, of learning the language of a man who didn’t know how to touch without bruising, but who had whispered one night, “With you, I want to try.”
And he had tried, there is not a lie there. He did.
Since then, he hadn’t raised his voice, he didn't leave any new scars, Instead, there were quiet moments where he had a hand lingering on my lower back, a softened tone when addressing me, a seat
