Wish
“What is—What am I?”
She raises her brows, not the slightest bit offended by my burst of temper. “You’re like us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grind my teeth.
She studies me before finally saying, “Not human.”
I go still.
Knowing it and hearing it are two different things.
From the moment I saw the white wolf and Veronica sharing the same scar, my subconscious had allowed me to put a few pieces together that had painted such a ridiculous picture that I had forced myself not to believe it. It was only at Dr. Brown’s urging that I had allowed the idea to linger somewhere in my mind, knowing that if I confronted my growing, shocking belief, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Seeing Annabell