Olivia Anderson
The cage rocked gently on its chains, the golden light now pouring from the bars in steady pulses, warming the air until it felt thick and alive.
Sweat slid down my temples, my neck, pooling at the small of my back beneath the thin shift. Every breath came easier now…not because the pain had lessened, but because something inside me was finally settling into place instead of fighting to break free.
Down below, the pack was waking in slow, quiet stages.
Rhea lifted her chin first. Her eyes—those familiar hazel eyes that used to crinkle when she teased me about my terrible dancing—locked on mine and held. No more sliding away or any more blankness.
“Olivia,” she said, voice soft but steady. “We’re here. We see you.”
The words landed like cool water on fevered skin.
Tom
