Book 4: She Broke Me

Emelda

Snowy darkness stretches ahead of me. Whatever light from the moon is blocked by thick clouds that spread snow across the hills leading from the castle to Ravenfell. I pull my cloak tight to fight the bitter chill in the air and breathe in the fresh, crisp night. It smells clean. I love that smell. I love when it snows. I always have. 

But tonight, I’m not tucked in bed with the fire roaring while I read a book. I’m not in my kitchen mixing herbs or baking for Michael’s insatiable shifter appetite. I’m not settled near the window mending a seam in his favorite jacket while watching the snow fall in dizzy circles. 

Now, I’m walking to what remains of my old life. 

I stop at the edge of the manor’s property line. A few outbuildings remain, but that’s it. What was once a great house with rich history is now nothing more than a pile of rubble and snow-soaked embers, some still flickering like stars against the blackest of ni