Return to the Den Memories and a Startling Introduction

The drive to the pack house felt like traveling backwards through time, each mile peeling away the layers of confidence I'd built over four years. I sat in the back seat of Ethan's sleek black car, watching familiar trees blur past my window.

"You're awfully quiet," Mom commented, turning in her seat to look at me.

I managed a smile. "Just thinking."

"About what a wonderful evening we're going to have?" she asked hopefully.

"Something like that," I murmured.

Ethan caught my eye in the rearview mirror. He knew better. This wasn't going to be wonderful—this was going to be an exercise in self-control and acting skills I wasn't sure I possessed.

"Remember," he said quietly, "you don't owe anyone anything. If it gets too much, we can leave."