**** Alyssa **** Last night I finally consented to let the doctor inspect my injured arm. Enzi said he was worried I’d mess up my recovery if I were active too soon. So he would not allow me to go anywhere or do anything until I had let the doctor see my arm. The doc and Enzi were surprised and pleased that I had healed, and even though I didn’t want them to know I had advanced healing, it was clear that I had some level of shifter healing abilities. However, they had no idea exactly when I’d recovered, and I wasn’t answering those questions. The doctor also noted that my mental state seemed vastly improved since the last time he’d seen me. This morning, despite an abundance of jittery anxiety racing through my veins, I’m ecstatic to inhale a deep breath of crisp morning air. It tastes like freedom. Flipping delicious freedom. I arrived a little late for training, which I hadn’t meant to, but I was in such a damn hurry getting dressed that I caught my foot while trying to jam it into

**** Alyssa **** Apparently, today is my first day as my husband’s assistant. While I am not looking forward to being within close proximity to him the whole day, I sure am looking forward to the chance to locate the information I need to plan a better escape. His confusing behavior yesterday perplexed me further when, after dinner, he brought me chocolates and told me he wanted me to work directly with him today AND that his mother had been impressed with my notes. I’m not sure if I was more confused that he kept saying nice things to me, or that his mother suddenly seemed to know I existed, or if it was that the chocolates were the same type as the ones that mysteriously appeared in my room once a week since my arrival. What does that even mean? Either way, I’m more determined than ever to get out of here before my brain melts. Luckily, he also gave me my laptop back, and I spent half the night on the internet watching lock-picking videos. It took me a couple of hours of fiddling

**** Alyssa **** Tomorrow is the night. I briefly reconsidered my plan to leave. Something in my guts told me I should stay for this birthday dinner and hear what he, along with everybody else, has to say. Enzi's been a jerk, but I know there's more to it; after all, he's implied there's a reason. Not that anything should excuse mistreating me to the extent he has, but I'm curious nonetheless. What could he possibly claim as an excuse? More than that, he's been weirdly nice lately. And he's been staring at me, almost lovingly, definitely lustfully. What's up with that? Frankly, it freaks me out to find myself drawn to him. The man is a mystery wrapped in a conundrum buried in an enigma with a steaming pile of crazy poop on top, and I just can't figure him out. I know there's something more going on, and I really want to trust that things might be starting to look up for me. Maybe, perhaps, there is a chance that my situation here will get better, that I'll be able to make a life here

**** Alyssa **** “Are you alright, love? Do you need some help? Do you need me to call someone?” I can’t imagine what the clerk here must think. I am covered in scratches, bruises, grazes, and mud, there are even twigs and other debris in my hair. “Oh, umm. I’m fine, thank you,” I smile what I hope is an innocent smile. She bags my hair dye, scissors, ugly ball cap, and sunglasses. I even found colored contact lenses. Add duct tape and a shovel, I’d look like I was planning a revenge killing. “You’re running away?” “Fancy dress party,” I reply lamely with another half-ass smile. Even I don’t believe me. “There’s a shelter on 29th street. They’ll help you get on your feet,” the clerk replies. I’m dumbfounded for a moment as I haven’t considered a shelter. After gaping like a goldfish out of water for a moment, she adds, “They won’t make you go home. You’ll be safe.” “Thank you! You don’t know how much that means to me.” She gives me a warm smile. I thought people would jud

3 years later…. ****Alyssa**** “Hey beautiful, I was thinking we should get a hotel room tonight?” my friend Nathan says, interrupting my train of thought. Nathan is a bartender here as well as Luke’s assistant manager. I’m getting a few last-minute things done while I wait for our friends to arrive. “Really?” I say, feigning a frown. “We’re not going to be out that late.” I continue wiping down the bar, assuming a disinterested air. Nathan is quite possibly the sweetest person I ever met; actually, he always reminded me of my friend Jay from back home. It always makes my heart hurt thinking of the friends I left behind. Nathan and Jay are the kind of people you instantly know you’ll be friends with forever. Still, I can’t resist teasing Nathan a little. “Oh, hun, you told me you didn’t have a party for your 18th, or for your 21st, and last year for your 23rd birthday, we went out to dinner. Dinner!? How dull!” “It was a lovely dinner,” I sing, now stacking glasses behind the ba