I wait in the sitting room, prettied, dressed up, and alone. I sit on the couch looking over the backrest like a widow longing for her husband to return home, to come marching up the front yard, through the weeds and untamed growth of her garden. I feel timeless, like the young woman captured in the black and white photograph back home that my father says is his great aunt. She sits on the mantle with the other members of our family history and surveys from her post. But, most of all, I feel helpless. I can fight for the Lunas—for their daughters and their Alpha blood—but I can't save...