NORTON
I sat across from Megan, watching her as she sat quietly on the sofa, her gaze fixed on the floor. Cindy, her personal servant, moved about the room in silence, cleaning while occasionally glancing in our direction.
The atmosphere felt heavy, almost suffocating. Megan’s face, still red from Ayla’s slap, looked delicate and fragile. I couldn’t shake the image of Ayla striking her. I knew my sister could be harsh, but seeing the physical result of her temper made my stomach twist.
I broke the silence, my voice low. “Does your face still hurt?”
Megan nodded without looking at me. “Yes, but Cindy had already put some ointment on it. It will heal soon.”
I shook my head, feeling guilt pull at me. “I’m sorry about Ayla. She can be… rough. We’re werewolves, Megan, and I know that slap
