Emily's POV
The morning was beautiful.
The kind of morning that belonged in storybook illustrations—blue sky, crisp air, golden sunlight filtering through the leaves of the pack garden. Birds chirped in the distance, the scent of damp grass and fresh earth surrounding me.
And yet, I couldn't focus.
A half-finished sketch sat in my lap, smudged charcoal staining my fingertips. Surrounding me were at least ten failed attempts, each page crumpled in frustration and tossed onto the grass.
I had been trying to draw her.
My mother.
The way she looked in the limbo. The way she had stared at me, her cold eyes filled with power-hungry ambition rather than maternal warmth.
I should have felt closure. Meeting her, finally understanding why she did what she did—it should have helped. But inste
