Chapter 2

The next day, I was in the study, drafting the mate-bond dissolution agreement, when I accidentally knocked my pen off the desk. As I reached to retrieve it, my fingers brushed against a small chest hidden beneath the desk.

Curious, I pulled it out and lifted the lid—inside were dozens of sketches, every single one drawn by Anthony. However, they were not of me.

Every drawing was of Emma. He had also written words to her on the back of each sketch.

[Dear Emma, you look so beautiful in a wedding dress. However, I could only watch as you stood beneath the full moon and exchanged vows with Andrew.]

[Dear Emma, Sophia keeps begging me to draw her, but I only want to draw you. She doesn't deserve it.]

[Dear Emma, Sophia looks a little like you, so every time I take her from behind, I pretend she's you. But no matter how much I try, she will never compare to you.]

I finally understood why Anthony had never sketched me despite being so talented at drawing. Every day, he put on an act in front of me, only to lock himself in this study and pour his devotion into his Luna.

I could not help but wonder what I was to him.

Just then, a sound came from outside the door. Panic surged through me, and I hastily shoved the sketches back into the chest. However, in my rush, I forgot that the mate-bond dissolution agreement was still sitting on the desk in plain sight.

Anthony walked in, slipping a sapphire bracelet around my wrist as if nothing was wrong. "Come with me to the Hunting Festival."

"No!" I blurted out, recoiling from him. After everything that had happened, I knew exactly how the pack saw me—I was nothing but a disgrace, a joke, and I refused to stand before them again.

Anthony's tone was firm as he said, "But Emma wants to see you. You have to come with me."

I froze. He was not asking me but ordering me to go—for Emma.

Fine. Since I was leaving soon anyway, I would treat the visit as meeting her for one last time. With that in mind, I rose from my chair and followed him out, my heart pounding.

The agreement was on the desk, but Anthony had not even glanced at it.

...

The Hunting Festival was as lively as ever, the air thick with excitement. However, I found myself unable to move forward.

Anthony extended his hand toward me. "I'm here. If anyone dares to humiliate you, I'll rip their throat out."

I looked at him, and his words only made the memories crash harder.

The rogues had kept me a day and a night. Their fangs had torn into my flesh, ripping me apart until not an inch of my body was left unscathed. I had not doubted for a second that they meant to kill me. Somehow, I had managed to escape, only to return and find my humiliation broadcasted for the entire pack to see.

Wolves healed fast, but my wounds had been too deep. They festered, rotted, and had to be stitched and cleaned over and over again until I thought I would die from the pain alone. I was hospitalized more times than I could count. Some nights, I had wished for death.

Yet, every time I thought about Anthony, I forced myself to survive—even if the nightmares never left me, even if I broke down night after night.

Anthony had never once looked at me with guilt. He had watched me suffer, had seen me barely holding on, and he still did not care.

A sharp shove knocked me off balance.

Anthony's mother, Olivia Jackson, stood before me, her eyes filled with disgust. She snapped, saying, "Why is this filthy woman here? Anthony, why would you bring her? Do you want to disgrace our entire family? Get her out of here!"

Anthony pulled me behind him protectively. "Emma wanted to see Sophia. That's the only reason she's here."

He did not deny that I was a disgrace or refute his mother's words.

Olivia scoffed, waving me away like I was nothing more than a nuisance. "Fine. But don't let the guests see her with you. Take her through the back door."

Just like that, I was led inside through the back—like a rat scurrying through the alleys. I had once been the strongest female warrior of this pack, a hunter who stood at the center of this festival with pride.

Now, I was a ghost hiding in the shadows.

Emma was by our dad's side, smiling sweetly as she wrapped her arms around him, her voice dripping with affection.

The moment she saw me, she ran over and threw her arms around me. "My dear sister, I've missed you so much."

I stiffened as memories surged back. I had fought to death to save her, only for her to turn around and push me right back into the rogues' den.

When the rogues pinned me down and tore my clothes off, I begged her to send warriors to rescue me. I had waited, trapped beneath my tormentors, for an entire night—and no one had ever come.

Without thinking, I shoved her away.

Emma stumbled back, but before she could fall, Anthony rushed forward and caught her in his arms. Then, a sharp slap struck my cheek, the force of it sending my head snapping to the side.

My dad loomed over me, his claws half-extended, his face twisted in fury. He roared, "What is wrong with you? Emma has done nothing but care for you, and this is how you repay her? You're worse than the exiled rogues—you're heartless and cruel!"

Blood trickled down my cheek where his claws had grazed my skin, but I swallowed back the pain. With everything in me, I forced the words out. "She was the one who lured me into the rogues' territory!"

My dad raised his hand again, but Emma grabbed his arm, her face full of fake concern. She pleaded, saying, "Please, don't hurt her.

Anthony's gaze was sharp, a warning gleaming in his eyes. "Sophia, don't slander Emma. She nearly went blind crying over what happened to you."

I stared at him, stunned that not a single person believed me.

Not even my dad—the man who had trained me and turned me into the warrior I once was. Nonetheless, it did not matter anymore.

I lowered my gaze and muttered, "I'm sorry. I misspoke."

The fight drained out of me, and I did not see the point of it anyway since I was leaving.

Anthony glanced at me then, something unreadable in his expression—perhaps surprised at how easily I had given up.