The taxi drove slowly through the familiar road that led to my father’s mansion. The night was quiet, and the streetlights gave everything a soft yellow glow. My mind was heavy, full of questions and doubts. As the car turned into the last bend, I saw it—my car—still parked by the side of the road where it had broken down the last time I came to see him. It hadn’t been moved.
Maybe it was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted me to remember that conversation. That argument. That moment when he told me I must do what he wanted, no matter how I felt. I looked away from the car quickly, pretending it didn’t matter, but deep down, I knew it did.
Scott’s father’s words still rang in my head: “Ask your father why our packs became enemies.”
I sighed softly, pressing my palm against my
