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“You’re lying. He sent you in here to mess with my head. To break me. But it won’t work.”
    There was more intensity in his expression than I’d ever seen. Even more than the day he first kissed me—right after saving my life. I wavered but held fast as he said, “Whether you want to believe me or not, it’s true. If you don’t accept it soon, he will break you, Tara. He wants your blood, broken or not, and he’ll do anything to get it.”

Chapter Four
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    D ays passed. The only person I saw other than a guard bringing my meals was Mr. Sandefur—twice he came to take three large vials of my blood. When he stopped coming, I broke off a tooth from the comb and went back to a habit I’d developed when I’d first arrived of recording days with scratches on the wall.
    I began to wonder if I’d dreamt Alex’s visit. And then I began to convince myself I had. It was easier than accepting his betrayal. So, I pretended. And I slept.
    And when I slept, I dreamed.
    Fog licked at the walls of my mind. Sleep thinned into a loose thread, dangling me somewhere between awake and dreaming. Behind closed lids, hills sheeted in white snow stretched out farther than I could see inside the landscape of my own mind. A few yards away, a figure flickered, undulating, white form against white backdrop until it began to take shape. A woman, long hair blonde enough to disappear against the background. I couldn’t recognize her through the haze of my own confusion—and I was just aware enough to feel a nagging sense of nerves at what the picture might morph into should I reach for it.
    Dreams and reality were equally scary in my new world. But I’d never been very good at caution. I walked toward the figure.
    Slowly, as if drawing a twig through molasses, I raised my hand and reached for the woman in white. My fingers brushed her shoulder and both felt brittle against the softness of the ether surrounding us. As if understanding my unasked question, she shook her head without turning.
    Who was this woman in white? I needed to know—and I had nothing to lose.
    I reached again for her shoulder but this time she yanked away, floating just out of reach. I took a step, but no matter how close I got, she always darted an inch or two farther. I ground my teeth and gathered my energy. Then I bent at the knees and lunged, arms out.
    She flitted away as the vision began to fade.
    I woke to the shape of the figure still at the forefront of my mind and the face of a man hovering above me.
    “Wake up.”
    I jumped—more from the sudden sight of him than the sound of his voice—and scrambled backward into the corner of my new room. Cell. Whatever.
    Mr. Lexington stood over me, glowering. I studied him, chest heaving with angry breaths, while tracing the scent as he left. His hair had thinned and he’d lost weight. His shoulders weren’t nearly as broad and confident as when I’d first met him. The again, he’d been a hybrid Werewolf-Hunter that day. What the heck was he now?
    Pissed at me, for one. And the feeling was mutual.
    “What do you want?” I asked.
    He straightened but didn’t back away. I saw the gleam in his eyes from underneath his brows as he stared down at me, and I knew he enjoyed making me nervous. I sniffed the air.
    As always, when he came around, something smelled ... off. I had no idea what it was, but I think it had something to do with Steppe. He’d done something to “cure” Mr. Lexington from his Werewolf abilities before he’d taken me prisoner. I didn’t know what but I also didn’t trust it. And I hated how the strange smell called what was left of my own wolf to the surface. I’d yet to find a way to pull it all the way out and embrace it, but I wanted to. So, so badly.
    And I wanted to use it to put Mr. Lexington in his place. Before he could put me in mine. Normally, I’d understand his side. I’d killed his wife, after all. But that had been self-defense after they’d both