Faith's Pov.
I didn't moved much. I had just cried. I cried for my mate, Astor, who hated me. I cried for my children, who were probably scared and confused. I cried for Sanders, the man I had accidentally killed. And I cried for the mess my life had become.
When the tears finally stopped, I was curled up on the hard, dirty floor, shivering violently, trying to cling to the memory of warmth. I was woken up by the dungeon opening.
I struggled to lift my heavy head but when l finally looked it was the one person l didn't have the courage of facing. It was Ovelia.
She was not the regal, sharp woman I remembered. Her face was puffy and blotchy, her eyes red and sunken. Every line of her body screamed devastation the kind of soul-deep breakage only the loss of a mate can cause.
l could f
