l remember when l got to New York. I was going to start fresh.
And let me tell you, starting fresh was hard.
What made it very difficult wasn’t just the loneliness or the lack of money. It was the fact that I was keeping a secret. A huge, terrifying secret that tasted like acid every time I swallowed.
Yes, I thought I didn't have the werewolf gene. I was the fluke, the broken little human girl raised in a pack. But I knew everything about them and I had to carry the weight of that knowledge.
I was terrified that maybe somebody would find out, some way or somehow. They would realize I wasn’t just a simple girl; I was a living archive of their weaknesses. If they found me, they would torture me in order to reveal what I knew. So I had to be careful about what I said, when I said it, and
