Chapter 8
Vanya
What could be an Alpha’s weakness? Pride? Ego? A fragile masculinity wrapped in too much testosterone?
I leaned over the tiny mirror above the sink, watching droplets of water trail down my face. Wilde. That rabid dog was going to be the death of me. Today was just the beginning—I knew it. They weren’t going to stop until I was either broken or buried.
Still… I smiled at my reflection. This? This was still better than being stuck in the pack house, wearing pretty dresses and playing the obedient daughter. At least here, the war was mine.
Suddenly, a loud BANG BANG BANG rattled the bathroom door, nearly making me drop the towel. I froze. Crap. If they broke that door, I was done for. I couldn’t risk being seen right now—not half-dressed and definitely not without my bin
