The night wrapped itself about Isabella D'Angelo like a lover that knew her too well, for it did not soothe her thoughts nor quiet the restless storm within her heart, but rather deepened them, sharpened them, until every breath she drew felt laced with a hunger that had long since ceased to resemble mere ambition and had become instead something far more dangerous, far more consuming, and far more unforgiving.
She stood upon the balcony of the old estate that lay just beyond the formal borders of Regina, her fingers resting lightly upon the cold stone railing while her gaze stretched toward the distant lights that marked the Alpha's domain, and though she appeared composed there trembled beneath her calm a fury that refused to be buried.
"They bow to her."
She spoke the words softly, though they carried the edge of something bitter enough to cut.
"To her."
A faint laugh slipped from her lips, though it held no amusement.
"Ridiculous."
