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I thought about our fake training on the meadow, how he had pushed me to my limits, how he thought he was responsible for me.

Bastien on the other hand actually owed me answers. He kept appearing out of nowhere, and now he was suddenly accusing my mother of conducting some kind of wild experiment on me.

I looked at the two of them, unsure what to do.

They had been members of the Dragonfly Society. But something had happened. Something they were all trying to keep secret.

This was my chance to get answers. However, it was a rash one, and I could ruin a lot if I wasn't careful. And with my luck...

“I have to go to a lecture anyway,” I finally said and nodded to Alarik.

I would find out what they were hiding, but with a plan and not rashly, in the middle of a corridor where half the town seemed to hang around.

I ignored the Ruisangor's observant gaze and, dissatisfied with how the day had started, made my way to Professor Martens' lecture.

This confrontation from just now was a frustrating reminder that I knew nothing about the hushed-up truth of this town. And the behavior of the two men didn't make sense either, especially if Bastien's unit was supposed to be working on Alarik's behalf. Many pieces of the puzzle were missing, and I was still just a clueless pawn, except that, unlike the other pawns, I had no one to move me. Maybe I could use that to my advantage...

I turned the corner and raised my wrist as I walked, lightly running my fingertips over the spot across which his fingers had just glided far too gently.

The itching raged right there in the center of it. The itching that had completely disappeared when he had touched my wrist.

Blackwell Academy

DOLKINS

The day hadn't gotten any better.

I had learned that Larissa had forced Mady to re-enroll in cheerleading practice, which she had dropped out of at short notice, forcing me to join in on this suicide mission.

I hadn't been able to find Julie today, and Emely's mood had been pretty low after Vivienna and Amber had run over her law books in the parking lot in front of half the campus. Without Grace, things would have escalated again. But even the mayor's daughter was still keeping her distance, so I had lost myself in the corridors of the east wing.

I had searched for the places in the diary... and found them. But unlike in Alice's entries, it wasn't summer, it was winter. There was mud everywhere from the melting snow of the last few days, the sky was gray and overcast, and fog was swallowing up every ivy-covered inch of this campus.

Sighing, I walked through the Copelands' garden, relieved that Nash's guys were all still at football practice. This made the estate seem empty, and the only ones training in the garden in the distance were the men from the Rolanow pack.

They were different from the Copelands. Wilder, rougher... And the looks they gave me made my blood run cold.

On the stairs to the terrace, I quickened my pace, ready to disappear into my guest room for the rest of the day and read.

The ground floor seemed empty.

I paused.

The Legend of Walter Robinson

(He Got What He Deserved)

Secession Studios, Greg Dubrowski

I had often looked around the second floor, but I hadn't spent much time on this floor yet.

A voice inside me warned me that this might be the stupidest idea of the day. Nevertheless, as had happened too often lately, my curiosity got the better of me, and I reverently entered the large living room where the Rolanows always spent their mornings.

The grand piano by one of the windows was closed, but I knew that Tania sometimes played it.

Immediately, my thoughts returned to Julian.

I tried to concentrate on the light-flooded room, decorated in a blend of Victorian and colonial styles. Floor-to-ceiling windows, some more antlers, a long wooden table for ten people at the back of the room, which was not used for dining but for pack meetings, a fireplace, and above it a painting, probably from the nineteenth century.