Ryleigh closed the door to her room with a soft click and exhaled, her back pressing against the wood as the outside world slipped away.
For the first time in days—maybe weeks—there was no one barking orders at her, no calculating eyes watching her every move, no Alpha Damien brushing too close or Margaret whispering just loud enough to be cruel. The silence wrapped around her like a thick blanket, and for a brief moment, she let herself feel it—peace.
Then her eyes fell on the shopping bags neatly stacked at the foot of her bed, and a different kind of warmth spread through her chest.
Bright boutique bags with satin handles. Tissue paper peeking through. A bottle of delicate perfume. Folded jeans, pastel tops, silky bras and panties, a dress she hadn’t dared wear yet—it was all hers.
