Anastacia was constantly nagging and warning me, spouting out, "Don't give her your real name. Trust me, just don't."
I smiled at the lady in front of me. "I'm Anabelle. I'm sorry, I've never met you before." Her face fell—an expression of profound sadness—and she apologized for bothering me before returning to her table.
I nodded and thought, "Okay, Anastacia, explain now."
Anastacia began, "That girl is a she-wolf, a werewolf like us. I recognize her scent—it was present the night you almost died. She would have been too young to be involved then, but a relative of hers must have been. They can't find out you're still alive, or they'll finish what they started."
Melania queried, "But why do they want me dead? Why did they kill my family?"
Anastacia sighed, "I don't know, pup. I was
