The night had fallen heavy and silent, cloaking the world in shadow. Darkness stretched across the land, broken only by the flickering glow of an oil lamp that trembled against the draft seeping through the cracks of Florita's wooden house.
The air smelled faintly of herbs and dried flowers hung in bundles from the ceiling, but the calm simplicity of the place could not soothe the storm raging in Livia's heart.
She sat curled on the narrow bed, her knees pulled tight against her chest, her trembling hands clutching the blanket around her shoulders. For hours she had been crying, the sound muffled into the fabric, but the tears seemed endless.
Her body was exhausted, yet her mind refused to stop replaying the events of earlier—Aldus, the Lycan King, towering over her with his burning gaze, his dominance pressing down on her until she could hardly breathe.
