Chapter Twenty-Four
Trina’s POV
Because I have lived in the human world for more than half my life, the world that plays around me feels and looks foreign. Although it is true that I have little sparks of recollection in me, like listening to stories my nanny told me about our kind and how they discover the werewolves within them, of different folklores that blur the line between fiction and reality, and then the unending meals that I never bother to check where they come from, that is as much as it goes.
I don’t remember what my father looks like even though my mom says I look like him a lot. She tells me we were inseparable when I was a kid and would always accompany him to his meetings with the rest of the members of the council. That is the real ache that lingers in my chest – the f
