As I scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain on the main kitchen island, a soft, melodic laugh echoed from the doorway. My heart sank. Alice.
She stood there, her hands cradling her gently swelling belly – Astor’s unborn child. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Alice purred, not unkindly, but with a sweetness that always felt laced with poison. She wasn’t alone. Two other she-wolves, Lily and Clara, stood behind her, their expressions mirroring Alice’s subtle smirk. These two were always with Alice, always ready to back her up.
I kept scrubbing, pretending I didn’t hear her, pretending the familiar ache in my chest wasn't growing.
“Still doing the dirty work, Faith?” Alice sneered, stepping forward a
