🦋 ALTHEA
I had looked evil in the face many times before—my mother, Circe, Draven, the High Alpha. Thorne might wield darkness, yet he was anything but.
He was tormented, and I hoped that his betrothed would fill his life while he forgot me.
Ivanna was not a bad woman; she was a jealous one. I had watched my mate be bonded to another, so I knew how the story ended.
Jealousy was not cruelty. It was fear wearing teeth. And Ivanna's fear was older than me, deeper than whatever role I was playing now. She feared displacement. Being rendered unnecessary. Being eclipsed by a bond she could neither predict nor control. I understood that fear intimately.
Thorne did not need to love me. He did not need to forgive me. He only needed to let me go. And whatever arrangement he had with Ivanna would click back into place like we had never crossed paths.
But of course, all of that was just the secondary reason why I had done all I had done.
