I stared at him for a moment. “What exactly do you want me to say?” My eyes drifted across the room. Everywhere I looked… there were traces of Laura.
Her books, her clothes, her things. I picked up one of them and let out a small, mocking laugh.
“It looks like Laura is the real Mrs. Smith,” I said.
My wolf’s voice in my head was bitter. “Who am I to mess with that?” I placed the item back down slowly. “Just like my belongings belong in the attic,” I continued quietly, “so do I.”
Finally, I looked back at Victor. A bitter smile curled on my lips.
“Relax, Victor.” My wolf had learned survival the hard way over the years. “I’ve learned my place over the past five years.”
My voice softened, but the bitterness remained.
“I’m not trying to take Mrs. Smith’s spot.”
With that, I turned and
