Freya
As we neared the border of my father’s pack, a wave of familiarity washed over me, but it was mixed with dread. I had been gone for so long, and returning under these circumstances felt like a nightmare. Blaze walked beside me, his presence dark and menacing, and I could feel the tension building with each step we took. When we reached the guards at the entrance, they recognized me immediately. Their eyes widened, shock painted across their faces as if they'd seen a ghost.
“Freya?” one of them muttered, disbelief in his voice. “We thought you were—”
"Dead?" I finished for him, my voice laced with bitterness. I had been gone, but not dead. Part of me had hoped they would think I had disappeared on my own terms, not as some prisoner to a man like Blaze.
But Blaze wasn’t having it.
