Michaela
The patchwork of bruises and abrasions my captors left on my skin weren’t fading. I twisted about in the mirror, looking for any hint of the speedy recovery from wounds I’d once had as a pack member. But there was nothing.
Cut off from other werewolves, my abilities were declining. All I could do was try to hide the marks with clothes.
The tears began as I tugged on long sleeves. Weak, hurting, ashamed, and filled with a sense of loss as raw as it had been five years ago, I crumpled to the floor.
It was all lost – all for nothing – every peaceful moment of happiness I’d had for the past five years. Everything in my carefully-constructed life had fallen apart. I couldn’t fight my way out of this.
Every moment since I fled the werewolf world, even my joyful days with Gabri
