Extended Epilogue

Sometimes I see him—his face in the darkness of the open closet or the blur of trees as we drive by. I wish I believed myself when I mutter that it's just my head conjuring such things from nothing. I wish my father wasn't capable of things beyond my imagination.

It's been a year since I escaped my father and became a shifter. I thought that would be enough time to move on from it all, but I often find myself reliving the many memories I have stored away. Adam will pull me from my trance only to tell me that he's called my name twice already. He'll ask me what's on my mind like he doesn't know, and I'll wave him off as if it were nothing. We used to talk about it during the first few months, but eventually, I saw no use in repeating the same worries and nightmares. There is only so much he can do.

Despite my lingering past, we are