I didn't cry, nor did I slow down. I didn't turn back.
The moment I walk away from that hallway, I make a decision. A clean one. Sharp. Necessary.
Whatever I saw didn’t break me.
I refuse to let it.
My steps are steady as I move, even though my chest feels too tight, like something ugly is clawing around inside it. My wolf reacts first, surging forward in agitation, but I shove her back down without hesitation.
Not now.
Not ever.
I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me unravel in public.
Especially not her.
I don’t know how far I walk. I just know I don’t stop until the sounds of the corridor fade and the weight in my chest becomes manageable enough to breathe through.
Anger is easier.
Anger is clean.
It gives me edges.
I cling to it, shape myself around it, let it d
