Serena’s POV
The silence in the tower was no longer just empty; it was a weight, pressing down on my lungs until every breath felt like a struggle against the air itself.
Penelope was curled into a ball on the stone floor, her silent tears soaking into her dress, while I paced the limited length of the chamber.
The historian’s words—the collateral, the promise, the final entry—played over and over in my mind like a broken record.
I wasn't just a daughter. I wasn't just a rejected mate. I was a debt. A commodity to be bartered, traded, and claimed by the highest bidder.
"He came for me," I whispered, the reality finally sinking into my bones. "He didn't come for the pack. He didn't come for my father's taxes. He came because he knew I was here."
"What are we going to do?" Penelope
