Camila's POV
I met her gaze head-on. "You seem awfully interested in my love life, Sasha. What's wrong? Still stuck playing second choice?"
Her smirk faltered, just for a second.
A flicker of something—anger, embarrassment—crossed her face before she masked it with a smirk.
Lady Sasha.
The title hit me like a slap.
Sasha wasn't just some girl from Silvercrest. She was nobility—the niece of an Alpha, respected and feared in her own right. I had forgotten that. Back in Silvercrest, before everything, she had been untouchable, her name carrying weight wherever she went.
And me?
I had been a slave.
I had served wolves like her, lowered my gaze in their presence, obeyed without question. I had been nothing more than a girl who scrubbed floors, fetched meals, and disappeared when I wasn't needed.
I used to call her Lady Sasha.
The memory clawed at me, a sharp, bitter reminder of the past I had fought so hard to leave behind.
