🪷ISORA🪷The morning sun was pale and cold, casting long shadows across the courtyard where Esmeralda hung from the gallows, her body limp and broken, her dark hair hanging in tangled strands over her face.I sat on a chair that had been brought out for me, my back straight, my hands resting on my knees, my face hard and unreadable. Adrian sat beside me, his presence warm and steady, his hand resting on my thigh under the table that had been set up for us.The pack had gathered to watch, servants and guards and wolves alike, their eyes fixed on the spectacle that was about to unfold. The air was thick with anticipation, and I could feel the weight of their gazes pressing down on me like a physical force.The guards were preparing the whip, running their fingers along the leather, testing the weight of it. I watched them with cold detachment, remembering the feel of that same whip on my back, the sting of it, the burn of it, the way it had torn my skin open and left me bleeding on the
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