20Three a.m. For the love of Puck . . . three a.m.?
Simultaneously, a persistent, soft knocking on my door, and my text notification chiming relentlessly next to my head roused me from my sleep. We had a double cull scheduled. Of course we did. At three-freaking-a.m.
I searched my arm immediately. There was no tattoo. Silly me, of course there wasn’t. It was only a dream. A strange dream, but still only a dream.
As if the impending double cull wasn’t enough, when I opened my front door, I was greeted with the curt visage of Liam, not Gideon as I’d expected.
His expression screams of not wanting to be here.
Standing beside him was Michael. At least, it was not Halah.
“Give me a minute,” I grumped, pushing the door wide for them and dashing to my room to change out of my pajamas. Forge
