Kyria
He didn’t move. Not at first. But then, with the crowd watching , he nodded stiffly.
I made my way towards the long banquet table, where the elite of the Lunari pack dines under the cascading chandeliers. The conversation dulled as I approached. I caught snippets : “Is that the girl he bought and brought in?”,
“She has no claim…”
“Heard she doesn’t even shift…”
I forced myself to ignore it. I picked up a glass of rose water and sipped slowly. My mark pulsed under my sleeve.
My heart cracked open like glass under pressure. I turned away, walking toward the side of the ballroom , trying not to tremble. But as I reached the edge of the dance floor, someone bumped into me.
On purpose.
Wine spilt across my dress. Red on lavender. A stain of humiliation.
Gasps echoed. Laughter—l
