Elsa’s POV
The way Ryan walked past me tonight, as though I was nothing but smoke in his path, it stings worse than claws to the chest. Once, I was everything to him. His queen. His Luna. His reason for breathing. Now he looks at me as if I am a ghost who haunts his hallways. That woman, Amelia, stands tall in my place, wearing my crown, sleeping in my bed, raising my children. It should have been me. I should be the one holding his hand at the table. I should be the one the pack looks to for guidance. I should be the one the triplets run to when they scrape a knee or have a nightmare. Instead, they huddle behind her skirts as if I were the nightmare. Ungrateful brats.
I gave them life, and this is how they repay me? Hiding, glaring at me with eyes so like Ryan’s yet full of suspicion. A
