Bianca's POV
The phone call ended with a sharp click that echoed through the empty room like a gunshot.
I placed the device on my vanity table with more force than necessary. The sound reverberated through my private quarters. My quarters alone. Not shared. Never shared, not since we'd arrived in this pathetic excuse for pack land.
Willow Brook.
The name left a bitter aftertaste every time I spoke it.
I faced the mirror, studying the reflection that greeted me. The woman looking back possessed my features, my carefully sculpted cheekbones, my lips pressed into the unforgiving line I'd mastered through years of practice. But everything else told a story I refused to accept.
