My choices were stark. I could either surrender, enduring endless torment until death claimed me, or I could run. Oberon often warned me that one day, I would have to leave—yet, deep down, I clung to the naive hope that my father might simply forget about me, that somehow, he'd release me from his oppressive grasp. How foolish I had been. At eighteen, I was about to learn the harsh truth of life on the run.

I couldn’t meet Oberon as often anymore. The wolves were everywhere. I'd seen them ...