Victoria.
As I made my way to the edge of the ruined temple, I couldn't help but reflect on everything that had led me here.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
But I knew—someone had to step up.
I couldn't just stand by and watch everything I bled for crumble. Dan was running the pack into the ground, blinded by fear and ghosts. And God help me, I won't let him.
I'll take back the pack. I deserve it just as much as he does—if not more.
We both started the rebellion. We both took down Batista. So why should I be called a traitor for wanting what's rightfully mine?
Don't call me wicked. Don't call me a backstabber.
I gave Dan chance after chance. I was even content to be his Luna—loyal, silent, patient.
But he never made it official. He refused to perform the Ascension Rite. Refused the mate-binding ceremony. Always locked away in that mansion of his, pacing, muttering, paranoid that Batista is still alive—watching, waiting.
Well, he's not wrong to be suspicious.
