Moira's POV

Victoria stands near the detention center's exit doors, her blonde hair catching the harsh fluorescent light. My chest tightens. My breathing goes shallow. My hands shake at my sides.

'You were ten when it started,' Emerald's voice cuts through the rising panic. 'Eight years of hell. But you survived. And now you have mates who love you.'

I straighten my shoulders, forcing my hands to still. Meet those familiar blue eyes directly.

"What are you doing ...