MEGAN’S POV
I was curled up on the worn couch, flipping through the same three channels the tiny safehouse TV offered, when I heard the door open.
Finally.
I sat up quickly, “That was fast…” but the rest of my sentence died in my throat.
Victor stepped in, holding two bags of groceries. His clothes were torn, blood smeared across his jaw and down his shirt. But it wasn’t his blood.
“Victor?” I rushed toward him. “What happened?”
He shut the door behind him with his foot and dropped the bags on the counter. “I was followed.”
My heart dropped. “By witches?”
“No,” he said darkly. “By vampires.”
I blinked. “What? Why would your own kind?”
“They know about you,” he cut in, eyes flashing. “Or at least, they suspect something. One of them said the Council’s been whispering about a ‘hybr
