CHOSEN BY THE CURSED ALPHA KING
The petals stood out in stark, vivid contrast against the dark soil, a splash of blood on a wound.
“He was the only one always there for me,” she said, her voice softer now, almost tender. “I hate that I wasn’t there for his last moment.”
Her gaze lingered on the rose. “When I was sad, he’d always remind me of the rose. How beautiful it was, yet still armed with thorns.” She turned those sharp green eyes on me again, a faint, unsettling smile curving her lips. “I am that rose.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond.