I didn't sleep.
I tried.
I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling while darkness swallowed the room around me.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw the words.
The first lie.
The second lie.
The daughter who mattered.
The daughter who disappeared.
The sentences repeated endlessly inside my head.
Each time they returned, they seemed to mean something different.
Each time they hurt a little more.
Outside, Beaumont slept.
Inside, my entire world felt fractured.
I turned onto my side.
Then onto my back.
Then onto my other side.
Nothing helped.
My wolf was awake too.
Restless.
Pacing somewhere deep inside me.
Waiting.
The feeling had become familiar over the past few weeks.
Ever since she had finally answered me.
Ever since the box.
The pendant.
The journal.
My mother.
