Volkov’s Redemption

The grand hall of the Lycan palace was eerily silent, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows. Cinder stood at the far end, her gaze fixed on King Roderick Volkov. His sharp features were shadowed, his expression unreadable. Jason stood beside her, his posture protective.

Volkov's voice broke the silence. "You've grown stronger, Cinder. Stronger than I anticipated."

Cinder clenched her fists, anger bubbling under her calm exterior. "Stronger in spite of you, not because of you. You made my life a nightmare, and for what? Your own amusement?"

The king's gaze softened, and for the first time, Cinder saw something unexpected—regret.

"You think I was cruel for no reason," Volkov said, his voice lower now. "You believe I enjoyed your pain. But the truth is far darker, and I never wanted to burden you with it."

Cinder took a step forward, her anger mixed with confusion. "What truth? What could possibly justify everything you've done?"