Chapter 4. Freedom. Or Was It Really?

One year later…

The massive facility enclosed in chain-link fences loomed behind me as I headed through the visitor’s parking lot–feeling as if a weight had fallen off my back.

Sadly, that weight, which consisted of the mad desire for private space, freedom, and constantly dealing with bitches picking fights, was replaced with a different kind of weight that tasted a great deal of hate and resentment.

During my year here at the juvenile detention of Cape Falls–specially designed for werewolf delinquents in mind–I had called my own personal hell.

For a whole year, I was trapped in this shit-hole of a place for a bunch of offenses I did not commit. Someone had set me up, and I made it my sole intention to find out who the bastard was.

Halfway through my stay here, my aunt, who was vacationing in Hawaii, told me the truth over the phone. Well, more like fishing for information. Rita was known for her role as the family gossip, and she relished in people’s