This was never my plan.

But here I am, loaded into the back of a truck, into a crate like some dog. The driver hits another bump in the road, sending me flying across my tiny prison. I hit the bars, which burn my skin and make me yelp.

Of course, they would reinforce it with silver and wolfsbane. They want it to hurt and now I’m sure they are hitting every single bump on purpose just to harm me.

“When I get out of here, you all are going to pay.”

Flashes of Valeria cross my mind. She was ...