Forty-Eight: Miracle.

RAFAEL.

The car sped across Oakland highway and I impatiently looked to the clock for the nth time in the last few seconds and we were still an hour away from the pack house. “Come on, come on” I muttered beneath my breath as I looked down at Kayla in my hands.

She didn’t have up to one hour—her heart was slowly threading meaning the poison from the syringe was hastily flowing through her veins and the moment it did sting her heart, it was over. It was a battle against time but now, we’d gotten rid of the guards and Lucien had filled her stomach.

We were all in the vehicle, including Veronica who stole glances from across the front seat whenever she heard my voice, knowing it was Kayla I was talking to but for the first time, I didn’t care.

I didn’t care that she knew about us, I was tired of hiding—of living a lie and most of all, I was tired of hurting Kayla, over and over again even if it was never what I wanted to do. I should’ve never locked her in that cage because all of this