I didn’t sleep much that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, the forest came back.
The taste of dirt and blood. The sound of my own scream shearing off. The way the ground had felt swallowing my warmth.
“Tomorrow night, under the moon.”
Lena’s voice threaded through those images like silk around a noose.
They thought they were replaying the same scene.
Dress me up. Walk me out. Perform their righteous little ritual for the pack and the witch and anyone else watching.
Only this time, I’d asked for a divorce first. I stood up in front of the elders. I’d put a knife in the shape of a contract clause under my bed.
Different steps.
Same destination.
The moon didn’t care about choreography.
Just blood.
By the time the first thin light of dawn crept in around the curtains, my mind fel
