AUTHOR'S POV

Fuzzy. That was the word Annabelle would've used to describe her current state of mind as she laid on an uncomfortable surface of some kind. She couldn't remember getting into bed though -then again, she couldn't remember much of anything.

Annabelle's eyes snapped open as- in flashes -it all started to come back to her: The Haven, McDuffie, Ansel, wings, claws, fangs... And then that sickeningly sweet smell of blood in the air...

Panic rose in Annabelle's chest. She had to get out of there, she had to warn someone, do something!

Annabelle shot up on the bed, taking in her surroundings with shock. At first glance, she...