Özet
I, Clara, fled Caleb after he branded "yield" into my soul, choosing Juliet over me—stealing my dowry, mocking my pain. On his fake mating day, I escaped to the Western Packs, ripping free from his chains. In Elaria, Dominic found me—no judgment for my shorn scalp, just warmth. Caleb tracked me, begging forgiveness, but his words reeked of the same control. When an avalanche buried Dominic, I dug him out, ignoring Caleb’s pleas. Dominic gave me a moonstone ring etched with our sigils; I wore it proudly. Now, as I board my flight, Caleb’s scent fades behind me.
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