Lyra’s back hit the door with a soft thud, the unexpected impact sending a jolt of pain through her already bruised body. Her legs, trembling uncontrollably beneath her, finally gave out, and she slid down the cool wood until she was huddled on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest.
The weight of too many emotions pressed down on her, a suffocating burden of fear, humiliation, and a bone-deep ache of rejection. Her fingers curled into the rough fibers of the shirt, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, hot trails against her cold skin, as she desperately tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to erupt.
But her wolf whimpered inside her, a small, wounded creature curled up in the darkness, aching with every bruise and insult, every lash of rejection that didn’t just come from Kyso
