I’m at home in the study; it was once my father's office when he was alive but has been collecting dust since his death. I am rummaging through books of werewolves history, hoping to find something recorded about bonds between witches and wolves. The need to go to her, to protect, keeps growing, but I don’t want it; I don’t want her. We must find a way to sever this bond.
I grab the tenth book flipping through the pages, nothing. F**k, I toss the book across the room, my anger surging. That witch better figures this out. I run my hand through my hair before walking over to the book and picking it back up.