_Virella’s POV_
I lay on the floor for a moment after he left.
Not because I couldn’t get up. I could get up. I lay there because moving felt like it required a decision and the decision required energy and for about thirty seconds I didn’t have the energy for anything except lying on the floor of my own corridor and looking at the ceiling, trying to understand what my life had become.
After a while, I got up.
I went to the bathroom and looked at the cut along the side of my head in the mirror. The blood had made it look worse than it was, which was how head wounds always looked, and my wolf was already working on it. I pressed a cloth against it and held it there and looked at my own face in the mirror.
He had said the things he said.
I had heard every word.
I stood
