Three whole days have passed since that terrible incident.
His wolves returned from the woods without Cyran. My heart leaped with joy, but Garrett's mood blackened further. He shouted at them until his voice went hoarse, and threatened to have them all killed for their incompetence. I couldn't be happier. Cyran got away, and that's all that matters to me.
Of course, Garrett took all his frustrations out on me.
I'm starting to learn to treat my body as a vessel, to not let anything he does to me affect my state of mind. The good thing about being a werewolf is that all non-fatal injuries heal in record time. He can rip me apart and I'll just stitch myself together. My body will do it for me. I close my eyes and wait for him to finish. I tell myself that it'll all end soon, and it does. It's okay.
I'm just happy that Cyran, my Cyran, is safe and sound.
