Chapter 1

Three days ago, I was at school cramming for my finals when my dad, Terence Locke, suddenly burst into the classroom. He was unshaven and wild-eyed as he grabbed my arm and dragged me out.

He said his company had gone bankrupt and that he owed several million dollars to loan sharks. If he couldn't pay it back, they were going to chop off our hands and feet.

I believed him. After all, the way he cried looked so real, and his hands were shaking like crazy.

We escaped into a forest deep in the mountains.

For the past three days, the rain had been pouring down. Ever since I drank that half bottle of water Dad handed me, my head had been heavy and foggy, like someone had stuffed something inside my skull.

The water had a faintly bitter taste, but Dad said it was spring water from the mountain.

I hadn't eaten in two days. I was seeing double, my ears were ringing, and even the wind sounded like a shrill, ghostly scream.

We hid in a damp, freezing cave.

Dad wolfed down the last half of the energy bar I'd saved, crying as he ate. "Emma, I'm so sorry for making you suffer through this with me."

I leaned against the rock wall. My vision was going dark, and I didn't even have the strength to lift my hand. I wanted so badly to sleep, but I didn't dare.

I clutched a sharpened wooden stick in my hand, and my nails dug into my palm. I used the pain to force myself to stay awake.

Just then, the wolves came.

In truth, I could barely see anything. The heavy rain blurred my eyes, and it didn't help that the strange, dizzy spell was washing over me. All I could make out in the darkness were a dozen or so pairs of glowing green eyes and the nauseating stench of blood.

The ringing in my ears drowned out everything else; I couldn't hear the faint mechanical whirring beneath it all and simply assumed it was the low, rumbling growl of wild beasts.

Dad was so terrified that his legs gave out. He collapsed to the ground, babbling incoherently, "It's over… We're doomed… They're going to tear us to pieces…"

I stared at the dark shapes closing in. My heart was pounding. I wasn't afraid of dying. I was afraid of him dying.

Mom died when I was young. Dad had raised me alone, playing the roles of both mom and dad. He was always busy with his business and hardly ever around, but I knew he loved me.

That was enough.

I grabbed a burning branch from the fire. Adrenaline momentarily overwhelmed the weakness in my body.

"Dad, run!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Then, using every last bit of strength I had, I lunged out through the crack in the rocks.

To the left was a gentle slope—the only route Dad had to escape. To the right was a sheer drop and a dead end. If I ran left and the wolves couldn't catch me, they would just turn around and go after Dad.

I didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat as I spun around and charged toward the cliff edge on the right. I was going to lure the wolves down a dead-end path and cut off any chance they had of turning back.

Those "wolves" took the bait as I'd hoped, letting out howls as they all wheeled around and tore after me.