Brandon
I’d been trained my whole life to separate what I felt from what I knew.
Feelings were soft. Changeable. Dangerous.
Facts were clean.
And the facts, as I’d been taught them since before I could tie my shoes, were simple: werewolves murdered. They corrupted. They hid in human skin until they didn’t. Anyone who got too close to them ended up bitten and dead.
So when that door in the supply room opened, and I saw Emma standing there in the middle of a werewolf stronghold, barefoot and wild-eyed, the “facts” arranged themselves in one clean line:
She’d been taken.
What else could it be?
There was no version of reality where Emma belonged here of her own free will. She was human. She was normal. An orphan who’d bounced around the system, who’d clawed her way into something resem
