Selene Moonveil would never stand tall again. She would not speak unless I permitted it. She would not eat unless I allowed it. She would sleep on the floor beside my bed, leashed and humbled, no longer a princess, no longer a daughter of a tyrant Alpha—but a slave with no identity outside of me.
I would strip her of her name. Her voice. Her legacy. I would make her forget who she used to be.
And when she had nothing left—not dignity, not hope, not defiance—she would cling to me.
She would beg me to keep her. Not out of love, but out of need. Because I would be all she had left.
She would live by my word, serve by my hand, and sleep knowing she was nothing in the eyes of the world—nothing but mine.
And one day… when she finally knelt and looked up not with hate, but with the silent desperation of a woman who no longer remembered what freedom tasted like—I would finally feel the justice my parents never received.
