Lycina’s POV

I sit on the outer of the bed in my room, the blanket covering against my thighs. 

My heart’s a mess, thumping hard with a worry I can’t shake. Does Theron love me? That’s why he released me, right? The thought hunts me, but then it gutters out. No. A man who loves a woman doesn’t raise his hand to her, doesn’t slap her in front of the pack like she’s nothing. 

My fingers trace the faint bruise on my cheek, a dull ache under the skin. Maybe he didn’t love me, he ...