The Fae Driver

Iris

I wake up with the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

A long, agonizing week has passed since Victor tore my mother apart in the snow while the rest of the pack watched. I have been staying in the spare room of the Monroe house ever since, buried under heavy blankets, staring blankly at the peeling paint on the ceiling. Sleep offers no escape. Every time I manage to close my eyes,