I tried not to cry. I tried. But the lump in my throat was thick and stubborn – like a stone lodged in my windpipe.
Married off? To an old rogue wolf?
My father's words echoed in my skull. Every syllable in them was hammering the nails deeper into my impending doom.
"A month. You have one month in this house, María José. If, by then, I still believe you are cursed—" He paused, letting the disgust drip from his tongue. "—then I will see to it that you are married off to any rogue who won't care what kind of disgrace you are."
A sharp and ugly laugh bubbled from Camila. "Oh, Father, why wait? I'm sure there are plenty of desperate, disgusting old rogues out there right now who would love a pathetic little Omega like her."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palm so hard I was certain I'd break the skin.