Lucas watches me with concern and care, but all I can say is, "Oh."


    Some part of me had expected Mom to stay in a coma forever. Or die.


    I didn''t think about her much. Ignoring her existence is easier than dealing with—well, everything.


    "I would have to return to Blackwood in order to question her." Every word is careful and measured, as though he''s not sure how I''m going to respond.


    He doesn''t invite me to go. I''m not sure I want to. He probably realizes that.


    Selene glances toward us, her ears flicking as she listens.


    "I don''t think that''s the best idea. Your pack needs you here. They need to see their alpha." I''m hesitant to speak up, but Selene''s watchful gaze gives me a little confidence. "Alpha Clayton is still there, isn''t he? I think he should lead the interrogation."


    It''s our first time saying his name between us, and I can feel Lucas'' muscles tense.


    Trying to give him a little comfort, I grab his hand, threading our fingers together. A silent message that I''m still here. That I''ve already made my choice.


    My heart hurts when I realize how little I''ve really thought about the damage I''ve done to this man.


    He relaxes, drawing me closer, his thumb rubbing against the back of my hand. "You''re right. I''ll call him."


    It''s amazing how warm my heart feels, knowing that I''ve given Lucas a little peace of mind, with a hint of my heart.


    I''ve wasted so much time worrying about his intentions. Worrying about being trapped in a gilded cage.


    Being brave is easier than I thought it would be.


    He brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against them. "I have to meet with Kellan and discuss everything, but I''ll keep you updated. I promise."


    * * *


    The front door closes with a soft click, and Lucas'' warmth disappears with him.


    I pace across the floor, my arms wrapped around my middle, hugging myself as if that''ll hold all the broken pieces inside of me together.


    Mom''s awake.


    Lisa''s gone.


    Vampires attacked.


    Sister Miriam''s trying to get in touch with me.


    My father might be hiding in a city of vampires.


    "But what if—"


    You can''t build a relationship on secrets and lies. But it''s your choice. I will be here, regardless.


    Even so, it feels like a betrayal to put my bond with Lucas over Lisa''s life.


    Maybe it''s the wrong decision.


    I''m actually half-convinced it is the wrong decision. That I should have taken the opportunity while I was here to talk to him.


    But I grab the candle. "I''ll explain it to him after I talk to her. I can''t wait around just because I''m worried about his reaction."


    Ignoring that little tug at my gut trying to me about future problems, I grab the candle and light it, sneezing at the smell of burning dust.


    Selene sneezes beside me. It''s awful. Like burning dust and a dead fly.


    I ignore her complaint, too focused on the task at hand. Squeezing my eyes shut, I picture Sister Miriam in my mind—her dark hair, pale skin, and those disconcerting red eyes that seem to see right through me.


    "Sister Miriam," I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.


    At first, nothing happens. The room remains silent save for the soft hum of the television in the background. But then, something shifts. The image of Sister Miriam in my mind grows clearer, more vivid. It''s as if she''s standing right in front of me, those unsettling eyes boring into mine.


    A shiver runs through me, and I feel a strange sensation wash over my body. It''s like I''m being pulled forward, tugged towards something I can''t quite comprehend. The room around me seems to fade away, replaced by an endless expanse of red that matches the color of Sister Miriam''s eyes.


    Ava? Selene''s concerned voice sounds distant, muffled, as if she''s speaking to me from underwater. What''s happening?


    I try to respond, to tell her I don''t know, but the words catch in my throat. The red engulfs me completely now, surrounding me on all sides. It''s suffocating, overwhelming, and I feel rising panic in my chest.


    Just as I''m about to succumb to the fear, the red dissipates.


    The change is jarring. My eyes take several rounds of rapid blinks to adjust.


    I''m no longer in my apartment.


    Instead, I''m standing in the middle of a brightly lit room. It''s a cozy little space, an eclectic mix of vintage and modern. It should look haphazard and pieced together, but it looks almost quaint. Cozy. Clean.


    Soft, plush armchairs with sleek, minimalist end tables. Colorful throw pillows scattered across an elegant, if worn, leather couch. There are bookshelves everywhere, each filled to the brim. Recognizable modern books mixed with ancient encyclopedias. Some spines show different languages.


    There are even fabric-covered books that have my fingers twitching with the need to run my finger down the length of them.


    A bibliophile''s dream.


    Where the hell are we?


    "Welcome to my home, child."