Buried beneath the confusion and the doubt, though, something else stirs. My pulse quickens when I think about the way he looked at me. I’m not ready to name it, not ready to trust it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

Luna shifts in my lap, drawing my attention back to the present. I stroke her soft fur, trying to process everything that has happened today. This morning, I was hollow and empty, convinced that love is just another weapon people use against each other. Now, I’m sitting here with blood on my hands—metaphorically, at least—and listening to a dangerous man tell me I belong to him.

“You are the first woman...