Dahlia's POV
Nate hadn't just been "looking" for us. He had been tracking us. He had been studying our children like specimens long before he ever "rescued" us from the Gala.
But that wasn't the worst part.
In the center of the room, sitting on a pedestal, was a heavy stone bowl. It was identical to the one Martha had held, the one used to pour the black rot onto the floor. Beside it lay a ledger, open to a page titled: Project Resurrection: The Vessel of the Heart.
My stomach did a sick, violent flip. This wasn't a new pack house. It was an extension of the old one. Nate hadn't been building a sanctuary; he had been building a more efficient way to harness the power that had almost killed his son.
