Zara’s POV

“I’m so glad you came back to me, Zara,” the man in front of me sneered, just before plunging a syringe filled with silver-laced wolfsbane into my abdomen.

Monster.

“And I hate that we’re even breathing the same air,” I spat.

The sharp crack of a slap followed, stinging my cheek—but it barely registered. My nerves had long since gone numb.

Pain? I’d learned to master it. I’d survived worse.

My fathers used to joke that I was ...