Susan's POV:
The tattered sheets beneath me reeked of a sickening, metallic stench.
They called this place Dark Moon Alley.
To me, though, it was nothing more than a filthy sewer—the very shame the werewolves tried so hard to pretend didn't exist.
The same wolves who used to grovel at my feet and call me "Susan" now only needed a few silver coins to use my body as their personal punching bag.
And when I was on my period or starving, they didn't even bother paying.
They'd probably forgotten that I used to be the highest-status woman in the Haven Pack.
Back then, I only catered to Alpha Aeon and Beta Evan.
Now? I was just the cheapest w***e in the slums.
When Elder Max was finally strangled and hung from the city walls, I thought I'd finally get some breathing room—a chance to escap
