I was used to the cold.
It had become part of me—etched into my bones since the day I was stolen from my family. Passing out and waking up on the cold, unforgiving ground had become some twisted ritual I never signed up for.
So when I opened my eyes this morning, it didn’t surprise me.
What hit me like a wave of nausea wasn’t the temperature—it was the memory. The cruel, vivid reminder that none of yesterday’s horrors had been a dream. They were going to drain my powers… then hand me over to Ron like a gift. A tool. A thing.
I would rather die than let him lay a single filthy finger on me.
That much I’d already decided. The only regret I’d carry into the afterlife would be Aries… leaving him behind, and worse—letting him feel it through our bond if someone else touched me. That though
