Meredith.
I turned the corner and found Madame Beatrice waiting for me.
She didn't speak, didn't ask questions, didn't even look at me for longer than a second before turning on her heel and starting down the hall. I followed in silence, my pulse still thrumming from my encounter with Draven and Gary.
The journey back to my room was painfully long—hallway after hallway, staircase after staircase. My feet ached with each step, my body screaming from exhaustion. My throat burned with thirst, my stomach churned in hunger, and yet, Madame Beatrice moved with the same rigid posture, her steps as sharp and strong as ever.
Even at her age, she showed no signs of fatigue.
I released a slow breath, coming to yet another miserable realization—I wasn't built for this world. If I had a wolf, climbing staircases for ten minutes straight wouldn't feel like I was dragging chains behind me.
Draven's words clawed at my mind.
"Get a wolf first before you think about flipping a table."
