Getting used to this stupid routine of singing, along with work and training, made everything so much harder. I wanted to think about our next step, but they made me shift twice a day and had someone in my head at all times. Even when I tried to keep them out of my head, it seemed they were doing the same to me. I couldn't learn anything more about the bomb or their plans. I was still an outsider, and I accepted it — I didn't want to be part of their pack, especially when I couldn't even think normally.

I grew so sick of singing the same songs that I started singing ones I didn't know all the words to, then lost track of the melody and wasted an hour. I knew they would always talk about me and read my thoughts, even laugh, but I kept up the pretense and carried on as I had for weeks, with only minimal time to figure out what to do next.

Six weeks — six weeks and I hadn't seen Rexxie. How much longer would it take to get back to our mate? I was really glad Isilesah was with me; the only other person I talked to was Pete, apart from the times they forced me to speak, despite knowing I could. I wanted to go back to Rexxie. The next week, things went from bad to worse. It wasn’t just that I knew they were up to something — something big. Whatever was happening outside the pack seemed to have picked up pace, and apparently I was now a useful pawn. It was "time," I’d heard, and I’d already noticed that some shifters had arrived and many had left; it was very different from the previous six weeks. I had not removed the bomb. I suppose I had been so focused on not thinking about it that I never did. It was worrying, because even if I had had the chance to take it out, I felt I would simply be given another one. So it was put directly on hold. Every time the "bomb" tried to call me to remind me it was there, there was only a long beep on the other end. But this week things got desperate. First, they discussed my leaving right in front of me. They said I should follow the path they had shown me; I shook my head and said I was part of their pack now. One of them got mad, stood up, and said I was needed for their plan to work perfectly, but was told to be quiet. Then the Alpha's aura was used and I was forced to leave — with the bomb still implanted in my shoulder. What they hadn't thought about was my peculiar way of thinking; when the Alpha commanded that I leave the boundary, that is what I did. I left the boundary, then sat right next to it and did not move. I did what I was told. Singing songs in my head while still in wolf form, it wasn't long before they realized I wasn't going to move. When they brought me back to the pack, that's when things really hit the fan. They ganged up on me, called me names, and threw things that even stank. There were only about ten of them, but ten against one felt dishonorable; I could only think they were all bastards. I had been told to shift and was forced to kneel in front of that witch of a woman. "Luna, she's here!" Hearing a chuckle, I saw her relishing the moment. "You might think you're clever, little one, but you're not." She pulled my hair and pressed my face into the dirt. "You like this place so much? Then have some—eat it!" Laughter rang out and I desperately tried not to eat the dirt next to my mouth. A minute later, when the pressure on my head lessened, I kept my face bowed, terrified. I knew they needed me alive, but torture didn't sit well with me, and I knew they had no time to waste—they were in a hurry to use me. "Mmm, it seems the little one thinks she's blind…" The woman's ugly voice sighed, cheers went up, and I shifted from panic to a deeper fear of what was coming next. And just as I feared, it went from bad to worse. That witch of a woman savagely lifted my head, bared her wolf-like claws, and began gouging my eyes. I screamed. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced — and I suspect few others had either: to go from being able to see to seeing nothing, and to feel that kind of pain. I felt blood run down my cheeks and chin, and I think one of my eyes popped like a balloon. My screams, swallowed by the woman's merciless actions, were cut off when a hand closed around my neck.