Chapter 82

• The coldness of the damp room had long seeped into my bones, but it wasn’t the chill that kept me awake. I was used to it.
• It was the fury that thrummed beneath my skin, relentless and wild, like a storm waiting to burst forth. My body was crumpled against the stone floor, my wrists shackled high above my head, the silver cuffs biting into my flesh. The agony had long since dulled into a constant throb, but the shame—the helplessness—was something that gnawed away at my very core.
• The floor beneath me was unforgiving, hard and unyielding. My knees had gone numb from sitting on the cold stone for what felt like an eternity. The sharp bite of silver had drained me, but I wouldn’t give in. Not now. I could feel my wolf, so close yet so far away, clawing at the inside of my chest.