Darling Freya had hounded me almost the entire night after she returned.
Around 12am. Midnight.
She had paced the length of our dorm like a caffeinated squirrel, rattling off questions in rapid-fire bursts:
What happened with Elias?
How was I feeling?
Why had I shifted?
Was I okay?
Was Elias okay?
Was she okay?
I could barely keep up, and even if I could, I wouldn't have answered all of them.
No.
I was too tired for this circus.
My arm and leg, both of which had snapped earlier like cheap plastic, had somehow healed by what I assumed was some post-Lycan miracle, but they still throbbed like I'd been chewed on by a freight train.
All I wanted was to close my eyes and sink into nothing.
But sleep felt impossible.
Because there was her.
Valeria.
That cruel, venom-laced witch.
That evil disgusting rat.
I wanted to kill her.
Easy, Morrigan purred in the back of my mind. You must not let your emotions control you.
