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CHAPTER 30

“She’d better not be dead,” Godric growls.

I wince at his tone, but I can’t open my eyes. I can’t even move. The urge to dig my fingers into soft furs leaves my nails scratching at the sheets I’m lying on.

But there aren’t any furs.

Only silky sheets that slip underneath my palms.

So, I’m not in Godric’s tent.

“She’s adjusting,” Arwan replies coolly as if I’m merely taking a nap. “You give her too little credit.”

“And you give her too much,” the Alpha rumbles as he begins to pace.

My heart twists at Godric’s dismissal.

Does he think so little of me?

Or maybe he sees me for what I am: a frail girl from the Elite City.

A liability.

A weakness against his precious pack.

Tears prick the edges of my eyes, and I don’t seem to have the strength to swipe them away as they roll down my cheeks.

“How long will she remain like this?” Godric snarls. He’s pacing back and forth while Arwan’s voice remains steady from the corner of the room.

“Until she’s ready.”

“Ready for what?”

There’s a pause before Arwan answers in that infuriatingly vague way of his.

“To find herself.”

What the hell does that even mean?

My lucidity slips as the males continue their tense conversation, but I can no longer make out the words. I fall back into a deep sleep.

My dreams come and go, but they vanish from my memory the moment I try to hold on to them. My body is occasionally twisted by support staff at the hub, bathing me, teasing soup at my lips, and brushing my hair.

I know I’m well taken care of, but I feel more like a doll kept prim and proper and ready to play with once I’ve been wound up again. Except I’m defective, unable to open my eyes even when I hear Sofia’s concerned tone filter through the room.

I’m not sure what Arwan meant when he said I’d wake up when I was ready to find myself. Only that I’ve never truly met myself. I’ve always been a product of the environment around me.

My memories take me back to the manor where I grew up. I stare at my tiny hands.

I’m maybe six or seven. I remember this age vividly.

Because it’s when I learned that no one was going to protect me.

It was the first time I almost died, and no one was there to save me.

Trembling, I lower my hands to my frilly dress and look up at who should be my father. Duke Rinhold wasn’t an unkind man, but I wasn’t his daughter. I was a cog in the Rinhold machine, and a defective one at that.

Except, it’s not Duke Rinhold who stares back at me.