“Stevie, I can’t.”

My cousin weeps over on top of me. “Blair, you will get your ass up. How else will you get vengeance?” My cousin knows me well. I might not be fueled by saving my life, but exacting revenge is the highest form of motivation.

I groan and shift onto my side and Stevie helps throw my arm over her shoulder as she half carries me to the Jeep. She’s heaving and out of breath as she pushes me into the passenger door. I can sense the other witches following us before Stevie places a sleeping charm on the group of traitors. They all fall to the ground; I can hear their bodies hitting the soil as Stevie exerts herself to buckle me in the car.

Even though they’re all sleeping on the ground, half of the candles have been snuffed out. I can’t help but yell at them.

“You bitches are fucking lucky I’m so tired right now,” I shout, even though I know they are all asleep and can’t hear me. If I wasn’t so groggy I would tell Stevie how proud I was of her, that was a lot of people to put to sleep at once. “They’re lucky I’m so tired or I would wreck the wards and let the werewolves have them.” Stevie doesn’t react to my attempt to make things lighter.

She shuts the door, and my head quickly lolls against the glass. I register the slam of another door as the Jeep jolts with Stevie’s foot pressing heavily on the accelerator.

“Blair, are you with me, Blair?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, but all I want to do is sleep. I haven’t cried in years, but at this moment I feel close. I knew my coven didn’t like me, but to sacrifice me, fucking murder me, for my power. That’s beyond anything I ever thought them capable of. If tonight proved anything, it’s that they messed with the wrong witch.

Stevie drives like a bat out of Hell toward our house. “They know where we live, Stevie.”

“You think they could get through your wards?”

I shake my head no. I’ve already made sure that Stevie and I are the only magical beings allowed to enter the premises.

“Fuck! Fuck!” I shout in anger and in pain. My head hurts and all I want to do is climb into bed and sleep for a million years. I want to forget that Stevie is the only living person who gives a fuck about me. Am I really that unlovable of a person?

I can’t help it, but that thought alone is what makes me cry. Years of pent up anger, frustration, and fear pours out of me.

“Blair?” Stevie whispers in panic. I wipe my eyes quickly and slump into the seat.

“I’m fine, Stevie.” I sniffle.

“No, you’re not, Blair. It’s okay to let it out.”

“No, it’s not.” I sigh and smack my head on the glass of the door and wince. I must fall asleep at some point, because I feel myself being sucked into a dream sequence.