Ava's POV
My jaw locked.
Slowly, I pushed myself upright from the floor. Fresh blood trailing down my wrist and dripping from my fingers to the stone below.
I didn’t speak. I simply raised my head and looked at her.
My gaze cold, direct and unflinching. My wolf stirred angrily within me.
And who made me this? I wanted to ask.
The question burned hotter than the wounds in my hand. Because Laura spoke of prison like I had walked there myself. Like the chains, the verdict, the exile had not been forged in lies and silence.
Who had stood beside Victor while I was taken?
Who had filled my place?
Who had let the pack and even my own son believe that I was a murderer?
Her.
For a flicker of a moment, something in her composure faltered under my stare. Her pupils widened; her scent spike
