Friend in Enemy

That night, Rosalia found herself tossing and turning in her bed, her mind whirling with thoughts of how to lead the pack. The pressure of her responsibilities weighed heavily on her shoulders. She stared at the ceiling, her brows furrowed as different scenarios played in her head—ways to unite the werewolves and witches, ways to command their respect, ways to make the uneasy peace sustainable. The more she thought, the more her head ached, a dull throbbing that refused to let up.

The darkness of the room seemed suffocating. Her senses were heightened, every rustle of silk beneath her, and the silence only amplified in her sleepless state.