Astrid
Standing before the towering wooden doors of my father's grand hall, my heart skipped a beat. I hadn't seen him in years—not since the day I left the Westwood Pack. Now, after all this time, I was back.
As I stared at the heavy oak door, my mind flashed back to old memories. My brother Axel, his face pale and cold in death, appeared before my eyes. He had died saving me from drowning, and with him, it felt like a part of me had drowned too. After that day, nothing was ever the same. My father had become distant, my mother had turned cold, and the once warm home I knew had transformed into a place of agony and torment.
"You can do this, Astrid," Magnus's deep voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder, his expression filled with concern.
"Okay," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
