Riley’s pov
My mind spiraled, flashes of that night flooding my senses—the crowd, the loud painful yells, the muffled murmurs, and the look of horror on my mother’s face. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, my hands shaking as I clasped them together tightly in my lap.
“Riley?” Lycan Lockwood’s voice cut through the silence, softer now, almost cautious. The sharp, demanding edge was gone, replaced by something that almost sounded like concern.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet his gaze, though my heart hammered in my chest. My voice came out as a whisper, barely audible.
“My father didn’t die a natural death,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “He was… he was beheaded. In the pack square. By a rival pack. They made it public, to humiliate my fathe
