The world was so warm but now it felt… cold.
Nightmares plagued him.
His father was whipping his mother mercilessly. She pleaded with him to let Lazarus live as he whipped her. There was blood all over on the ground. Seven-year-old Lazarus wanted to come out of his hiding and protect his mother, but she had locked him inside a small closet, forbidding him to come out. Why did his father hate him so much?
The scene shifted to dazzling moonlight over the snow. Emma was running towards him. His mate. His fangs grew sharper and he opened his arms.
His fingers moved to his side to find the familiar warmth in which he was going to sink himself. But he was met with the rustle of cold sheets. He peeled open his eyes and found her missing. His nightmare still bouncing around his head, he panicked and bellowed.
