Whispers pull me from dreams of a young woman who looks just like me and a smiling man who is no longer sad, but happy.

The words come so fast I can’t understand them. But as I blink myself awake, still struggling to take in the rushed whispers, hands grip my arms and drag me from my bed and across to the door.

“Ivy? What’s going on?” I mumble.

Ivy opens my door. When I hear enraged growls, I wake up. Fast.

As she leads the way down the narrow hallway to the stairs that will take us ...