VINCENT MOREAU
The air was cold as I sprinted to the car.
Yet, I had run so fast that each breath hurt my lungs and stomach. So determined I was to find her that I barely felt the pain. I would have only a precious few minutes with her before taking her away, because the last thing I wanted was Damian seeing us together.
My eyes swept the looming shadows that ran endlessly into the night, darting between darkened forms that twisted and teased me. I knew for sure that she could not have gone far-not in those fragile shoes, not in her condition. She couldn't have. I had studied her every move for months, taken note of her habits, and seen her hesitations. I knew she had a mind of instinct while not being built for physical endurance. Yet the estate sprawled before me, vast and silent,
