The shed is silent except for the water below and my own heartbeat loud in my ears.
I've known I was in danger. I've known it since the harbor, since the man grabbed my arm, since Elsie came to school grey and shaking. But there's a difference between knowing you're a lever, a tool, a piece someone might use, and standing in a dark shed hearing a frightened man tell you that your death was always the point, that a wolf you've never met decided weeks ago that you have to die, and has been patiently, elegantly arranging it ever since, savoring it, taking his time, because your dying slowly in front of the boy you love is the entire purpose of everything.
I look at Evan.
His face has gone somewhere I've never seen it go. Not the cold. Not the dangerous stillness. Something worse. He's look
