My thirst for blood has not been remotely satisfied.

Hunger for violence pumps in my veins, rage chokes me and turns my knuckles white on the steering wheel. They touched my angel. They grabbed her. Every time I remember what I witnessed, wrath screams inside my skull again and the cycle starts anew.

When I walked into the party, I could not find Georgina. Already I’d hit a dead end at the orientation hall and was about to return home in my borrowed car, thinking Georgina must be headed ...