Kiara
D
espite all my instincts screaming at me not to get into a car with Sebastian Hicks of the Mythguard, I did it anyways. He gave me a pair of grey sweatpants and a black sweater to wear, and when I demanded he arm me for my own reassurance, he reluctantly gave me a small knife to hold onto. I wanted a handgun. He refused. That was fine—I knew how to wield a knife well enough.
Sitting in the backseat of the SUV, my muscles were stiff with anticipation of an inevitable betrayal. I expected to be locked inside this vehicle, handcuffed and blindfolded, and taken somewhere far away. Any sudden movement from the humans sitting around me yielded a sharp look, my fingers tight around the handle of the knife. We drove through the town of Eastpeak, then hit the perimeter. It took all my s
