Rowan
I pressed my back against the corner and stared into the darkness, trying not to listen. Trying not to picture what was happening out there.
Ezra had been teaching me about our family's history lately.
He told me about the old wars, about the Lycans, and about how my ancestors had led the great hunt, tracking the Lycans across continents, slaughtering them one by one until none remained.
My family's legacy had been built on the blood and extinction of another race.
I looked down at my hands in the darkness. I couldn't see them, but I could feel them. The strength inside me was growing more potent with each passing year.
Father had always said there was something wrong with me. That I was dangerous. That I was born broken, built for destruction, and that if he didn't keep me contained, I would destroy everything and everyone I touched.
Maybe he was right. This was my curse, just as his behaviour was another curse of his.
Maybe the monster he saw in me was real.
