Chapter 511

Since Veronica could remember, her life had been out in the wild—hunted by starving wolves, brushing past roaring tigers and lions, dodging snakes slick with neon-colored venom, and waking to the thick, choking fogs that clung to the mountain air. Years later, far removed from those days, most of it had blurred into a vague memory. But whenever she found herself slipping back into a remote rainforest or desolate desert, her body still instinctively tensed up like it was wired for survival. At ten years old, her mother—Rosalie, who'd abandoned her for a decade—suddenly brought her back home. She stood up to Blackwolf, Veronica’s grandfather, demanding her daughter be freed from the grueling training. Rosalie took her own life in front of him. Ten-year-old Veronica had held tightly onto her mother’s hand, feeling the warmth draining away, until it turned ice-cold. She didn’t cry. Not a single tear. She hadn’t known her well—hardly saw her at all. But that woman… she was one of Veronica’s