On Going
On GoingAbstract
Alaric gave up his position as heir to London's oldest werewolf pack for me. For two whole years, he lived with me in a mold-covered top-floor flat, eating free bread handed out by charity kitchens every day. The entire werewolf world couldn't understand how Alaric Thornfield could have fallen for a human girl as lowly as a violet growing among gravel. I once asked Alaric that same question. It wasn't until two months before the wedding that I found out. Because Alaric had mistaken me for the girl who saved him. And now. The real savior has been found. Late at night, my stepsister Vivienne sent me a photo—Alaric's indifferent eyes beneath the dim, ambiguous lights of a bar. She said: "What's stolen must be returned."
Catalogue·Chapter 38
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