When Connor Turner saw the craftsman’s gift, a thought crossed his mind—he hadn’t seen me in a while. “Strange. Clara hasn’t come to cause trouble lately. Did she finally learn her place?”
“Exactly. She was spoiled rotten. A little suffering will do her good.”
His warrior, Duncan Dixon, hesitated before speaking cautiously. “Alpha, Luna… she’s still in that well.”
Connor’s pen stilled for a fraction of a second, then resumed as if the words meant nothing. “I assumed she’d had enough by now. Let her reflect a little longer.”
Duncan looked troubled. “She hasn’t made a sound for days. And there’s a terrible stench coming from down the well. Do you want to check on her?”
Connor remained indifferent. “She’s probably faking it—pretending to be all pitiful so we’d let her out. Someone like her would do anything to survive. She’s likely already skinned and eaten the venomous snakes in there. With all that blood and rot, no wonder it reeks.”
Duncan wanted to say more, but Connor cut him off, irritated. “Enough. I’ll have her released before my birthday banquet tomorrow. As long as she learns her lesson and apologizes to Belinda, I’ll let this go.”
Checking his pocket watch, Connor dismissed Duncan and turned to welcome Belinda Carter, who had
