Omrum’s POV
The silence that followed the entity's parting words was heavier than the winter storm itself.
“You are not one of them.” The phrase repeated in my mind, a dark, rhythmic loop that timed itself to the ragged beating of my heart. I dragged myself away from the scorched clearing, unable to look at the shriveled, unnatural husks of the rogue wolves for another second. Every inch of movement was a violent negotiation with my own body. The five hundred lashes had left my back a ruined tapestry of torn flesh, the rogue's bite had deeply mangled my right thigh, and the hollow, devastating ache in my womb reminded me with every step of the child I had just lost.
I was a walking corpse, held together by nothing but a newly forged, toxic vow of vengeance.
But hatred, no matter how
