Chapter 137

• Days turned into weeks, each one blending into the next as I endured my new life of servitude. The pack house had become a prison. Zephyr’s sadistic pleasure in tormenting me was matched only by the indifference—or outright cruelty—of the other pack members. They saw me as nothing more than a murderer, a slave unworthy of pity or kindness.
• One afternoon, I was scrubbing the floors in the main hall, trying to ignore the aching in my back and the bruises that painted my skin. The door swung open, and in walked Reuben, Zephyr’s best friend. He was tall, with a muscular build and an air of arrogance that made my skin crawl. His eyes lit up with a malicious gleam when he saw me.
• "How are you doing today, bitch? I hope badly." Reuben said, his voice dripping with mockery.