HERA
Two days.
That’s how long I’ve been rotting in this filthy, dark dungeon with nothing but the stench of mould and decay has my company.
My throat was dry, my stomach felt like it was caving in, and my body still ached from the pain of being beaten days ago, as well as the cold, hard floor pressing into my bones.
I have never felt this weak in my life. Maybe physically, yes—but my mind? It was still sharp. Sharp and burning with rage.
Hunger for food and thirst for water gnawed at me, but it’s nothing compared to the hunger and thirst for revenge that fueled me, that kept me alive, that whispered in my ear every second I’m trapped in this hellhole.
Shadow Claw. My pack. My throne.
I will get it all back, and when I do, every single person who has ever crossed me, who has ever
