AMELIA

　　　 

　　　

　　　 What the hell am I even doing here?

　　　

　　　 Guilt was real, constantly clenching my chest, and the effect was clusterfucked. 

　　　

　　　I wished I could just stab myself for penance, maybe, inflict the pain so I would suffer instead of his, but life didn’t always go as we wanted it to be.

　　　

　　　 Instead, here I was at the bar alone when I should be at Ryden’s side, self-loathing— I kept recalling what happened in my head, and I wished I could go back there and change it.

　　　

　　　 “Give me the strongest you have,” I told the werewolf bartender. It was disgusting that I could smell a woman’s arousal from him....