As I shivered, memories clawed back through the dark.
cycles ago, in the outer farmlands of Silverhaze Territory, Draven’s drunken sire had nearly beaten him to death.
I could still see the terror in Draven’s young wolf-eyes.
Without thinking, I stepped between them. The strike meant for him crashed across my cheek, stars exploding in my vision.
Something inside Draven snapped. He went feral—cornered, wild—lashing out at the Alpha he feared. When the older wolf staggered, Draven grabbed my hand and dragged me into the storm.
We hid in my small den while the rain hammered the roof. I trembled as I held his hand; he clutched mine just as tightly, eyes fierce yet soft.
“Lunessa,” he whispered, “I’ll never let fear touch you again.”
Back then, he had been my refuge.
Now, he was the nightmare standing on the other side of the door.
The cold gnawed into my bones. I clenched my teeth, refusing to collapse.
My grandmother and father were still waiting for me to come home—waiting for me to keep our fragile lives from falling apart.
“Draven! Let me out!” I kicked the iron door again and again until my toes went numb and my knuckles bloodied. It didn’t move.
I didn’t know how long I lay there before the hinges finally groaned open.
Draven stepped inside with several warriors behind him, his expression unsettlingly gentle. “Lunessa,” he murmured, “are you cold?”
He reached toward me. My pupils trembled. My throat was so dry no words came out.
Then I saw the warrior holding a metal kettle, steam rising from the spout. My pulse lurched.
“Draven… what are you doing?” I forced my voice steady, terrified of the answers forming in my mind.
He didn’t reply. Only looked at me with a cold, unfamiliar gleam.
“Your greatest mistake,” he said softly, “was harming Myrielle.”
“I didn’t spill that broth!” I choked. “Check the scry-stones—check the hall runes—it wasn’t me! I swear on the Moon, it wasn’t me!”
He didn’t flinch.
He lifted a hand. The warriors pinned me to the freezing floor. I kicked, clawed, pleaded—but it didn’t matter.
A hiss split the air. An instant later, blistering agony ripped across my back as boiling water hit my skin.
I screamed, my throat tearing raw. My healing wounds burst open, flesh searing, blood sizzling where it met the heat.
I thought I knew pain before. I hadn’t. Not until now.
And through the agony, one regret echoed over and over.