Luna's fingers dug into the velvet seat of the carriage, nails biting into the soft fabric. The cushion muffled the tremor running through her hands, but it couldn't stop it. Her palms were damp, slick against the material, and no matter how tightly she clenched them, the shaking wouldn't stop.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like it wanted out.
Sleep hadn't come last night. Not once. Every time she closed her eyes, the pack house walls rose around her, the Lycan king's shadow stretching across the floor, Aunt Marion's voice cutting through her: "Make sure you get mated to Mrs. Perkins son." It had felt like a death sentence then. It felt like one now.
She should have run when she had the chance.
