The IV in my arm pumps in a saline solution now. But there is another bag of yellowish liquid that they’re waiting to administer.

Chemotherapy.

Adam came in with an oncologist and they outlined a treatment plan. I didn’t pay attention to the specifics of it. I trust that Adam will guide me toward the best treatment. And they seem to have a plan mapped out and the chemo ready to go. They’re waiting on some last blood tests that Adam ordered and then I’ll begin treatment.

I stare at that bag of chemicals like it’s an enemy-and yet it’s my only hope.

My chances of survival are low. The oncologist that visited with me was very clear about that. I appreciate the honesty.

He talked about treatment options, timelines, percentages of success and failure.

This is an advanced form of liver ca ncer and it is Stage IV.

There is less than a 5% chance of survival. 5% is something I suppose. But I’m not optimistic of beating those odds.

It’s more about buying time. There’s a chance this can halt the progression for a few months. And for now, I’m wiling to take that.

My father and my pack have been manipulated by Aaron and the events he set in motion forced my father to take his own life.

be reparation for this.

away with

because I need to

to bury father. I told

“When?”

“Tonight.”

time. The sun is already setting. “You should

for a moment. “I’m sorry, Leah. About all of this.” He means the ca ncer too. “We can try

the oncologist left. I’m not strong enough to survive it.” And I think he’s right.

“If this treatment works, if it pushes the discase back, then, yes. I will undergo the ritual and

though he proposes that I undergo the transformation, that’s not to say that

of humans, only a handful have

a death sentence, more

The pack’s bound to be in

come back for you well before midnight. Or I’ll send

“Thank you.”

miss the funeral ceremony.

what it’s worth,

my marriage isn’t valid?” I ask him. I’ve lived among Aaron’s pack for a decade and it’s

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