Mated to the Forbidden
Even if no one else saw my value, my father’s quiet love lingered there, and that was enough to keep me from collapsing beneath the crushing weight of my failures.
My gaze returned to Andrea’s opponent. She was dressed in the manner of the dagger family—trousers, a jacket, a hooded cowl, and light sandals for swift, silent movement. Unlike the dagger wielder I had once faced, this one radiated strength. Every shift of her stance spoke of honed skill. She was faster, deadlier, and the match she had been assigned to reflected it. Strong wolves fought strong wolves, while the weak were spared from mismatched slaughter. That was the rule. I had never belonged to the strong.
Bab Populer