Sandy's POV
When morning light filtered through my bedroom windows, every trace of him had vanished. No lingering scent, no warmth left behind on the sheets, nothing to prove that Charles had ever been here. The entire encounter felt like something my desperate mind had conjured in sleep.
Yet when I attempted to rise from bed, sharp aches shot through my lower back and between my thighs. Even my werewolf healing couldn't touch the soreness his touch had left behind.
The physical reminder didn't fill me with joy or satisfaction. Instead, waves of humiliation crashed over me, each one carving deeper grooves of guilt into my soul. I might as well have worn a scarlet letter across my forehead for everyone to witness my weakness.
Every instinct screamed at me to burrow under these covers and disappear from the world. But hiding wasn't an option. The demons waiting outside this room wouldn't face themselves.
