Nasya's POV
The elevator doors slid shut behind me with a soft hiss, sealing away Wynn's tear-streaked face but not the memory of her desperate grip on the cage bars. My footsteps died hollowly in the deserted corridor as I retreated from the sixteenth floor, each step carrying the weight of my complicity in this nightmare. The scent of Wynn's fear still clung to my clothes - a bitter amalgam of sweat, and salt tears.
Four years. It had been four years since I'd last seen them in Jalisco, when Leif had taught me which highland plants could ease a werewolf's fever and which might stop bleeding. Now that same bright-eyed girl sat caged like an animal in a luxury hotel, while her grandfather...
