My eye twitches as I stare at the woman I’d once resented for being Damian’s sister, and who has now become my closest friend in the valley. Well, my only friend. It’s like she can see right through me, and it’s a trait she shares with her brother.
I can’t decide if I hate it here or not, especially when the patients start filtering in, and I naturally gravitate toward a duty I’d imposed upon myself. No one asked me to volunteer at the clinic, but it remains the only thing that keeps me sane.
As the day drags on, I pick up on the whispers every time I call the next werewolf into the first aid bay. Words like “fire-bringer,” “demon-slayer,” and “destiny” fill my eardrums with an incessant ringing that has me slightly disoriented by the afternoon.
I take a moment to pause, reflecting on the way each patient I’ve seen today watches me as if I’m something special.
I’ve never done well with being in the spotlight. I was always comfortable being in the shadows, especially after my parents died. Being a nurse allowed me to stay in those shadows, help patients heal, while fulfilling a deeper yearning from when I wished there was something I could have done to help my father first, then my mother. Watching them wither away before my eyes was tough, and it’s what prompted me to chase my dream of becoming a nurse.
Perhaps that’s why I’m at a werewolf clinic, treating patients like this is what I signed up for, even if I was sprung into a different role entirely, with being a wife and wielding magic. It comes so naturally, but now the werewolves are looking at me as if I’m their savior, while I’m just a human who has every reason to feel like the outcast here.
And maybe that’s why I can’t accept that Damian wants me again. He’s the leader of these wolves, the king of this valley, and I’m just plain old me.
Gulp.
I thought I hated him enough to hang on to the part where he broke my heart, but now I’m struggling with accepting that he might just see me the way the others see me—like I’m something special.
I can’t be seen like this. There’s nothing special about me. As I feel my insecurities coming up to the surface like acrid bilerising in my throat, panic sets in, driving me out of the clinic before the next patient walks in.
The world tilts around me, and everything becomes a blur as I feel a panic attack about to consume me. Fresh air won’t cut it, and that’s why I’m running back to Damian’s cabin, in search of solitude, in search of seclusion where no one can see me.
But instead of finding that solitude, I crash into a solid wall of heat, a pair of strong hands gripping my arms to steady me on shaky feet. My knees continue to quiver, my vision blurry as I look up to see the haze of Damian’s face in front of me, his brows furrowed with worry.
“Sophie? What happened?” he asks, but all I can manage is to shake my head fervently, my voice stuck in my throat when I try to speak.
Damian catches on and pulls me into his arms, leading me to the porch, where he guides me onto the first step. As I’m seated there, he doesn’t let go, allowing me to crash and face the extremity of what's been going on.
Every inch of me shakes, while my mind forces flashes of moments I've been refusing to remember. That night outside the cabin, that night on the opposite side of the valley…
I'd turned into something I don't recognize, something with so much power that it frightens me.
And suddenly, I feel trapped. By everything. By what I'm becoming. By Damian's arms.
I snap, pulling away abruptly and glaring at him with so much ferocity that he frowns as he stares at me, perplexed.
Panic quickly turned to fury, but it's the only thing that makes me feel like I'm in control.
That's when I storm into the cabin, in a haste that even surprises me, rushing to my bedroom to grab whatever it is that I need—whatever I consider mine, like the handbag I'd been snatched with, and a cellphone that hasn't even been turned on since I arrived here, as if I couldn't just call for help.
Why haven't I? What kind of spell have I been under?
“What are you doing, Sophie?”
I snap around to find Damian filling the doorway, watching me with a frown.
“I'm leaving. I'm getting out of here,” I say firmly. “I can't do this anymore.” I grab my handbag and lift it over my shoulder. “I want a divorce.”
“It's not so simple,” Damian sighs. “I thought we've been over this. I thought you understood that—”
“I don't understand anything!” I roar, throwing my arms up wildly, crazily, like I'm losing my mind. “Nothing makes sense here, and I don't want it anymore!”
“Sophie—” Damian attempts to reach out toward me, but I hold up a hand in front of his face, my anger explosive now.
“Don't!” I warn. “Don't touch me, thinking it's gonna fix anything, because it won't!”
“Is that what you think the other night was about? You think I don't know that it won't fix things between us? I know—”
“You know nothing, Damian! You don't know what's going on with me, and I'm sick of feeling like this! I want out!”
