For nearly all of those years, Odette’s presence followed us like a shadow. From the beginning, I heard of her constantly. She was gentle, obedient, sweet-natured, delicate—everything wolves found irresistible.
Always close to him.
Always needing him.
At first, I assumed she truly was his younger sister.
Later, I learned Cassian was an only child.
Then I wondered if she was a distant cousin.
She was neither.
After our coming-of-age ceremony, Cassian and I began handling pack duties together. Not long after, Odette moved into the central territory. Cassian explained her mother had entrusted her to him because she had been born weak and needed protection.
At first, I pitied her.
I truly did.
But pity slowly turned into humiliation.
Whenever Cassian and I trained together, Odette sent for him.
Whenever we shared a meal, Odette fell ill.
Whenever we stole one quiet night beneath the moon, Odette somehow needed him before dawn.
A dizzy spell.
A twisted ankle.
A fever.
A sleepless night.
The reasons changed. The ending never did.
The moment Odette called, Cassian went.
I lost count of how many times we argued.