Page 80 of Fool Moon First Aid

This was a mistake—a grave, unfathomable mistake.

Tears prickle at the edges of my vision, but I fight them back, scouring my surroundings for anything that might serve as a weapon. Despite the dire situation, a spark of determination remains. I’m not ready to give up. Not now, not ever.

Elijah leans back, making himself comfortable on my legs like he’s settling into his favorite chair. The scream that rips from me isn’t just because of him—it’s the sting of a stitch popping. I try to wriggle away, but it’s no use against his weight.

Don’t give up, I remind myself.

“Again,” he says, his voice oozing sick excitement as he lifts and drops himself back onto my thighs. The pain sparks another involuntary cry from me. “Does that hurt, Ava?” he taunts, but I can’t bring myself to look at him, my mind racing for some way out.

Something stirs inside me—a primal force, long dormant, begins to simmer to life, clawing against the mental barriers I’ve erected. My skin itches and burns—a sensation so foreign, it’s as if it’s disconnected from the physical abuse.

“Look at me, you bitch,” he demands, pinching my chin and dragging my face up. Every part of me loathes him, itching for a chance to make him regret every second of this.

He digs his fingers into my mouth and tilts my head up, a cruel smile playing across his lips. Then, with an act of utter violation, he spits into my mouth. “I’m going to douse the fire in your veins, Ava,” he whispers. “Christopher!” His shout for my father sends a jolt of panic through me, my heart skipping a beat.

Turning back to me, he drops the bomb. “We’re getting married right now, and then I’m going to fuck the spirit right out of you.” My blood turns to ice. I can’t control the shudder that ripples through me, nor the itch that starts to spread like wildfire inside my body.

I want to shake my head, to deny his words, to do anything but lie here, but I’m frozen in place, trapped.

“You like that, don’t you?” He gets up and sits down again, each time forcing a cry out of me. “Cry for me, Ava. Show me your tears.”

I hate that my eyes betray me, spilling tears I wish I could keep locked up.

The door swings open, and my father stands there. I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, my last shred of hope disintegrating as he steps closer, crouching beside me. “Ava, this will go over easier if you’d just behave,” he says, his voice a dagger to my heart. My pain is nothing more than a tool for their twisted ambitions.

I’ve never hated him more. Everything he is, everything I thought he was, it all crumbles right here on the floor with me, but then, something inside me clicks. Calmness sweeps over me, pushing out the chaos.

“Say the words, Christopher,” Elijah urges, clearly getting impatient.

“Told you she’d be a wily one.” Mr. Castellon laughs nearby. His amusement at my expense wraps around me, choking me.

“You’re married,” my dad says, like he’s announcing the time of day. “Ava, I expected so much more from you. Even your mother gave in,” he states in his cold, detached voice.

The mention of her sparks something fierce and wild inside me. My skin doesn’t just burn, it tears open, and I scream. No, it’s not just a scream—it’s a declaration, a breaking of chains. My body feels like it’s undergoing its own earthquake, my bones cracking and realigning.

“What the fuck?” Elijah shrieks.

He’s cut off by his dad’s panicked shout. “You said she never shifted!”

Dad grabs my head, shaking me violently. “Get yourself under control. You will not shame me,” he orders like I’m just acting out.

“We’re going to have to kill her spirit,” Mr. Castellon comments as if he’s discussing the weather. “Elijah, get the chains.”

Like hell they will.

With a startling pop, everything inside me transforms. My vision sharpens to an uncanny clarity, my pain vanishes as if swept away by a strong gust, and an involuntary snarl escapes my lips—a snarl, really? The three of them, including my father and Elijah, recoil, their movements hesitant as they back away.

“Get the gun,” my father commands, his voice steady, yet his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty as they lock with mine.

Elijah panics. “You promised me since she never shifted, she wouldn’t!” His voice has that whiny edge of betrayal, like I’m the one ruining his plans on purpose.

“This is her first shift,” my dad muses, almost to himself. “The doctors assured me she didn’t inherit her mother’s genetics.”

“Looks like they lied,” Miss Piggy chimes in, her voice dripping with surprise and disdain. “Disgusting beast.”

“Perhaps,” my father replies, his gaze analytical and dissecting.

The cock of a gun hammers the final nail in my decision to flee. My body feels alien, oversized and clumsy, yet I’m propelled by an urgency that drowns out their shouts behind me. I dart through the mansion, which is a labyrinth now more than ever, desperate to remember the way I was brought in.

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