Mariana waited for the man who had just killed her father to burst through the door of her bedroom and say what his intentions were with her. She sat at the foot of her bed in her favorite dressing gown with the skirt arranged so her crossed legs were visible through the slit. It was hardly necessary since the fabric was so gauzy it left almost nothing to the imagination.

Brand walked along the yellow crime scene tape that cordoned off the dilapidated building. His gaze wandered over the stained brick wall and broken windows. He remembered when the building was new, how modern it had seemed rising out of the barren landscape. The abandoned industrial complex south of downtown had deteriorated...

Gunni sniffed several times, his muzzle lifted high. The cold air tickled the labyrinthine passages of his nose. Scents of fear and pain assaulted him, even from a few hundred feet away. Brand had sent him ahead to scout the Vancouver brood, and what he had to report was not encouraging. Madness was the best way to describe the events taking place in the valley below him.

I don’t belong to him, and nothing he can do will change that. I repeated that in my head while I sobbed. I lay face down along the length of the heavy, familiar bench, my wrists secured to the legs on either side. The bindings held me so I couldn’t move more than a tiny bit in any direction.

“Please tell me you’re not walking alone.” Grace stood by her bed, a shirt she was in the middle of packing forgotten in her hand.

I had almost made it out of our room, but she’d looked up as soon as I grabbed my backpack. I abandoned my escape plans and leaned against the closet door. “I’m just going to the library for my shift. The sun isn’t even set yet.”