I once believed the White Stone Pack was my eternal home. After my parents passed away, Rayne, Theo and Callen took me under their wing, claiming I was their precious little sister and vowing no harm would touch me.
Tragedy struck when wandering werewolves slaughtered the entire Grayvale Pack, leaving only Mira alive. I brought the orphan back to our pack and gave her our pack clasp, never suspecting she'd set a calculated allergy trap against me. She seized my cloak soaked with Twilight Bell flower scent and fainted before my three brothers.
Without verifying facts or hearing my side, they deemed me a jealous, vicious schemer bent on hurting Mira. They dragged me down to the basement, severed my psychic connection and sealed my mother's Calling Stone. Yet they overlooked piles of silverware captured from past werewolf hunts stored there. Silver dust filled my lungs with every inhale. I knelt by the door, broken nails scraping bloody marks on the wood, screaming for them to listen.
Three days later they returned, only to find me dead. My ghost witnessed them uncover Mira's deception, break down in agony, and sentence her harshly. They finally realized it was not Mira's deceit that ended my life—but the door they had cruelly shut on me.
