Canan's POV
Something glitters in the dirt.
I bend down and brush off the dust. It's a necklace. Gold and an expensive one. My mind drifts back to when I was 10 years old, when Father first taught me how to hunt for information instead of just hunting for blood.
We were in his study. Leather-bound books everywhere. A desk made of dark wood that seemed to stretch forever. Father sat behind it, sorting through papers like they held the secrets of the world.
I was nervous when he called me to his study. Father didn't call me into his study often, but anytime he did, it meant something important was happening.
He held up a gold necklace and a very expensive one.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"A necklace?" I said, not sure of the answer he was expecting
He didn't smile. He nev
