Leah
I knew the next words out of my mouth would decide more than just this breakfast.
In my first life I would have spilled everything—every slap, every bruise, every time his hands closed around my throat until black stars burst behind my eyes. Agnes would have listened. She would have believed me. And then she would have been forced to punish the grandson she had raised like her own heart. Samuel would lose face, lose standing, lose the slow climb toward the Alpha title he craved more than air. I would have tasted victory for one sharp, bitter moment. But Agnes’s eyes would have dimmed. She would never look at me the same way again. The woman who forced her to choose between blood and justice.
This time I understood the arithmetic of power better. Silence would brand me weak. The ser
