RITA'S Point Of View.
I woke up one morning and realized the ache in my chest was... duller. Not gone. Just quiet enough for me to think clearly.
Maybe the witch’s potion was finally working.
Maybe William had been right all along, that it was all enchantment and confusion.
And maybe, just maybe, I had overthought everything. The guilt. The pain. The priestess’s warnings.
The silence of my wolf? It didn’t feel as sharp anymore.
I could breathe again.
That meant something, didn’t it?
I walked to the mirror and stared at myself. No more dark circles. No more trembling hands. My body felt stronger. Lighter.
I smiled.
“I’m healing,” I whispered.
My father, the Alpha, was cautious.
He watched me closely for days, waiting for signs. Asking soft questions.
“Are you truly better?”
“I
