Hot water scalds my hands as I scrub dishes in mindless monotony. Anger. Fear. Despair. They all churn together in a toxic mix that threatens to drown me.
I have to stay strong, stay focused. Alpha Renard has made his intentions clear.
The plates clatter against each other as I rinse them, the sound almost therapeutic in its familiarity. This is what my life has been reduced to—cleaning up after my family, tiptoeing around their expectations, their rules, their control. A mere shadow in my own home.
Muted voices drift in from the other room, and it's impossible not to overhear the tense exchange between Phoenix and my father.
"...even more reports of rogues crossing the border," Phoenix growls, his voice laced with anger. "We can't let them encroach on our territory."
My father's response is quieter, but no less stern. "Have you confirmed the sightings? This has to be done carefully, or else the Council can intervene."
