Ren. In wolf form.

It was the first time I’d seen him since the Chamber. Since my mother’s throat had been torn out. And then they’d taken Ren… and given him to wraiths. That was something we’d shared. Torment by the Keepers’ shadow pets.

Looking at Ren now, it was clear that we no longer had that in common. In this cell, I was a husk of what I’d been. My body was barely covered by tattered scraps of formal wear, but my skin was marbled by indigo, sickly green, and gray-blue bruising. I was caked in my own filth.

Ren was none of these things. He looked… well.

And he was a wolf.

Rolling onto my back, I pushed myself against the wall until I was sitting up as much as I possibly could. Some of my muscles refused to fully stretch out anymore.

I wanted to glare at him, to show him how much I hated him, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at a wolf without falling apart, and the Keepers knew that. They knew seeing him would be that much worse than being a wraith’s bitch for yet another day.

My mind was bursting with questions about what had changed. Why was I still being tortured while Ren had been made whole? But I couldn’t risk asking. Somewhere in the sliver of my mind that still functioned, I knew I didn’t want the answers.

Keeping my eyes downcast, I croaked, “Get out.”

My throat shrieked at the effort; it was still raw from all the screaming. Those were the first words I’d spoken in days.

Ren didn’t give any sign he’d heard me. I glanced up and saw that he had lain down, though his head was still lifted. His gaze was fixed on me, unwavering.

I turned my head, resting my cheek on the frigid metal wall.

We stayed like that for so long. I didn’t look at him again. I stayed silent, curling in on myself, pretending that his presence was only making me angry. But I wasn’t angry, and after a while, tears I could no longer hold back began to drip onto my cheeks.