Valerie's POV
I finished speaking and the silence on the balcony was absolute. I didn't look at him. I just stared out at the dark mountains.
I had laid the facts out for him, one by one. I didn't cry. I didn't raise my voice. I gave him the story like I was reading an official report.
This was how I had survived. If you don't show them your pain, they can't use it to hurt you. It starves them of their power. So I gave him nothing. Just the cold, hard facts.
I told him about the winters in the basement, so cold I would wake up with my teeth chattering under a single, threadbare blanket. I told him about being made to serve Brenda and her friends when they had parties, clearing their plates while they laughed and whispered about my secondhand clothes.
I described the way Luna Iris would inspect my cleaning work, running a white-gloved finger over a surface, looking for a single speck of dust. If she found one, that was my meal for the day gone.
I gave him a specific example.
"Brenda was being formally courted by a young Beta from an allied pack, Marcus Junior," I said, my voice perfectly level. "Alpha Blackwood held a formal dinner. It was very important for the alliance."
"I was allowed to sit at the table for that one. For appearances," I continued. "Brenda ‘accidentally' tripped while carrying a tureen of hot stew. It spilled all over my lap and my dress."
"It was hot enough to burn my skin. But I couldn't react. I just had to sit there while she laughed and called me clumsy in front of our guest."
His voice, when he spoke, was a low, dangerous rumble. It was completely calm. That was the most terrifying part.
"Brenda's intended mate," he said, his voice flat. "The one at the dinner. Marcus Junior."
I finally turned to look at him. His face was a mask of cold fury. His dark eyes were fixed on me.
"The one who watched her humiliate you and did nothing," he continued. "The one who was supposed to be your match, before they gave him to her."
"What was his family's pack?" he asked.

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