Faith's Pov
l was hungry. It had been a day or so since I’d last eaten. The hunger wasn’t just a little rumble anymore; it was a deep, clawing ache, a constant demand from my newly awakened wolf. And it was worse, much worse than normal hunger.
Fear kept me glued to the bed. The pack house kitchen felt miles away.
Six years ago, they’d loved to taunt me, to make me feel small and worthless, like a speck of dust. I was met with sneers and whispers at every turn. It had almost broken me. But I wasn't that girl anymore.
I had found my strength, my self-worth but even then the idea of facing them, of hearing their hurtful words, made my hands tremble.
"No," I whispered to myself, pressing a hand to my aching stomach. "I can't stay here." The growl from deep within me was more than hunger
