The night after the trial burned through Bella’s veins like ash. Her body still carried the faint ache of fire, her skin sensitive as though every breath of wind remembered the flames. She had stood in front of them all, endured their judgment, and come out alive.

Alive, but not whole.

Not all the wolves had bowed. Not all had cheered.

She could still feel the divide when she walked the corridors—the way voices hushed when she passed, the way eyes lingered too long. Some with awe. Some ...