“There is no need to cry, dear.” Irene pats my shoulder. “We are just chatting. Let me guess—you feel guilt because of the history between your father and Koen’s pack. Maybe you think a debt is owed. But you only know little pieces of the story. That letter you just read…Would you like me to tell you what happened after it was sent?” I nod, ashamed. She’s trying to deal me into her game, and I’m allowing it. Because I need to know. “You see, the letter was with a friend, for safekeeping. I didn’t read it until months after it was written. But Fiona…she died less than twenty-four hours after it
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