A picture of Jace suddenly flashed in her mind, as bright and clear as a newly developed photograph. She gritted her teeth and pushed the image away. He was human, and not only that, he was her enemy.

Moth’s voice was husky. “I understand what you’re saying, Dad. I just don’t know how you can say it to me. I’m your daughter.”

His eyes were blank. “No, you’re not. Not anymore.”

Marie “Moth” O’Neal gazed at her father for a long moment. His face was set in cold, hard lines that she knew would never again melt into a smile—not for her.

Caitlín was the only human being that she could rely on now. She had to learn to accept her new “family;” a family that worshipped the moon rather than the sun, and who didn’t look at her as though she were a monster.

When she had returned to Theo with barely-healed scars on her arms—and the silver handcuffs causing fresh burns every moment—her sire had been furious. Not with her, as she’d feared, but with the young human who had dared to attack his “little Moth.” He had ripped the blessed metal from her wrists without flinching, the mysterious urn seemingly forgotten as he held her in his arms and stroked her hair.

Turning away from the home she had grown up in, Moth tasted bitter ashes on her tongue. Her old life was crumbling around her, but she pinned a fierce smile on her lips as she headed out of the city. She tucked her sunglasses in place, hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulder, and wondered how long it would take her to hitchhike back to Boston.

She had earned her last two months of freedom, and she damn well intended to make the most of them.