ADRIANA
Elijah's question cut through my thoughts.
Stay? Here? With these people?
I’d have to have lost my mind completely to even consider it. They’d turned my life into a waking nightmare. For years, I’d dreamed of the day I could finally escape.
After Mom died, I’d existed at their mercy, less than a servant, more like property they could abuse whenever the mood struck.
My father was staring at me with desperate, pleading eyes. As if he actually believed I might say yes. The man was completely delusional. He never could see reality for what it was.
That same delusion had killed my mother. When she got sick, he’d refused to take her to a hospital. “Werewolves don’t get sick,” he’d insisted, over and over. I’d begged him to call the pack doctor. Begged. And he’d refused.
Now he exp
