a

n't alone. The old nanny who called herself Debby was sitting beside me. I let out a frustrated sigh, noticing I had been moved from

voice laced with concern. "You need to

mory of what had happened flooded b

wn my cheeks. I reached up to touch my neck, feeling the tender spot where his teeth had su

become a plaything," I thought bitterly. It was almost ironic, escaping my former pack only to fall into the clutches of

ew what had happened to me? They probably thought I was dead, killed by the rogues who had attacked o

present. The deed was done. I touched the tender spot on my neck ag

pposed to be of happiness, shared between two mates who love each other. It's a claim, a bond that no other wolf dares

ace?" I asked, my voice shaky. "I... I want to go... home," I added in a whisper, though the

elt hollow, the dreams of finding my true mate now shattered by the beast who had marked me. The war

he cup suspiciously, still unsure of everything around me. "It's just tea, m

trays of food, all neatly arranged. My mouth watered, but I tried to maintain some semblance of composure. After she tasted each dish to show it was n

dy..." Debby began after I fin

off. "I've had enough. Don't remind me of my suffering, please

er. It'll be difficult to stop calling you 'my lady,' even if I respect your wishes. Others won'

I asked, shocked by the possibility. The thought of

r is different," she replied, her voice

your master?" I pressed, confused by her loyalty

erything," Debby answered with a fanatical look in her eyes, a look that both scared and sadde

said more than she intended, her emotions getting the be

id hurriedly, leaving the room in a

as left alone with my thoughts. But I couldn't dwell on them for long. There wer

e bed, I began to explore the cottage. It was larger than I expected, with three rooms, a kitchen, and a parlour. The walls were dull and bland, and everything inside was simple and

alive with the sound of insects. A wave of nostalgia

other would tell me bedtime stories during quiet nights like this. Stories of brave wolves

r pack like mindless ants, feeling no pain, their eyes glowing with pure evil. That was the first time I encountered rogues. They killed my father, but not

filled my eyes as I missed them both so much. The pain of losing them wa

t, my voice cracking with emotion. "Why did you

had ever smelled, a mixture of pine and ash. My wolf, who had been silent for so long, stirred within me, excited by the

ging furiously. The scent pulled me deeper into the clearing, further away from the cottage, and I didn't care about the dangers. I was consumed by the tantali

art skipped a beat, a mixture of fear and anticipation flooding through me. My mate stood there with

t it broke the wind, and my anticipa

lfman who had marked me. But instead of the warmth and connection I had felt earlier, there was something

realisation crashed over me like a tidal wave. He was

against my will. I can see that look, I can recognise that look and relate with the loo

ar him thanks to the mind link we shared when he marked me as his. His voice was fil

sn't value us. My heart trembled as I looked at my mate, who continued to stare at him. He was the

t to be wanted forever? Hot tears spilled from my eyes, I reached for him, yearning for that

i was hoping with a flicker of hope for my mate to run to me, to h

n. He ran away, leaving me standing th

o