Marks Dakota boots stomped through the ice as she made her way back home. Raging thoughts popped one after the other like insistent comic book speech bubbles.

"Maren, get back here!"

The brunette growled out curses under her breath, hands balling in tight fists. Another set of footsteps made her scamper away, but russet arms tangled her in a firm hold. "Don't touch me, you brute!"

"Maren," it was a deep voice that had often put her to bed when she was younger. "Hear what I have to say first."

"Is that an order?" The question came out as a snarl, but she stopped struggling.

As soon as he let go of her, she whirled to face him, almost falling on her ass. Sam was looking down at her, a mix of worry and sadness scrawled all over his features.

"I'm sorry." He said, too softly.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Sam bowed his head, shoulders caving in defeat.

"I have one question for you," when his eyes met hers, she continued. "How dare you?"

Shame rippled off him in waves, but she turned on her heel and resumed her hasty pace.

He called out to her. "Maren, you can't walk all the way home. Let me take you."

"Watch me, pinhead." The words were accompanied by a vulgar gesture.

When he didn't reply, she took a risk and glanced behind her. He was already gone.

...

The brunette turned the key, pushing the door before the lock finished clicking. She was freezing and wanted nothing more than to sink in her bathtub.

Slipping off her winter gear, Maren called out to her guardian. There was a muffled crash followed by hurried steps before Jilliana popped her head over the top stair railing. "You're home early."

"Um," the girl furrowed her brows. "Obviously."

"What happened?"

"Does something need to happen for me to be here?"

Jilliana huffed a breathy laugh, descending the carpeted stairs. "Usually, at this hour, I would find you following that poor Quileute boy's behind."

Maren crossed her arms over her chest, chewing on her lip. "I don't follow anyone."

"Everything alright with Paul and you?"

"I wasn't with Paul."

Jilliana blinked in surprise. "Uley, then. Sam Uley?"

The cursed woman could see right through the young girl. "I don't want to talk about it."

"He practically raised you."

"He's not my father." Maren snapped, pushing past her guardian and storming up to her bedroom. A heartfelt slam of the door, she didn't bother locking it.

Arrogant, bizarre, discouraging. Sam Uley was many things, but a lying piece of filth was not something she would've used to describe him. Not before this. It was treachery of the highest in her book.

"Oh, Leah." Now she understood why the young Quileute woman was behaving like a wounded animal. Her heart had been shattered by the person she trusted the most.

Maren went to the bathroom that connected to her chambers, drawing a bubbly bath. Stripping her clothes, she dipped into the tub and closed her eyes, pondering about what she had learned.

Leah Clearwater and Sam Uley were a pair that stuck together. Like any other healthy couple, they respected each other's privacy and valued what their lover had to divulge. Being around them was to see a fairytale come true.

But three years into their relationship, things went downhill pretty damn fast. Sam vanished for two weeks and once he cropped up again, avoided Leah like the plague. Maren didn't understand what happened, but she wasn't Leah's number one fan, so she stuck by Sam's side.

Then came the stunning Emily Young into play, Leah's cousin. They shared a strong love as sisters do, but once Sam met the new kid on the block, his attachment for her was a surprising reality. Emily rejected him repeatedly in respect to her cousin, but the man wouldn't give up.

It was after Emily got mauled by a bear that Sam convinced her that his feelings were sincere. The scarred woman seemed to accept this and began dating him.

This was what angered Maren. Sam broke up with Leah for her cousin. Emily even had the audacity to abandon her morals for him. It was Emily's betrayal that Maren would not accept, and she wasn't about to listen to Sam's justifications.

Knocks upon the door startled her. "Maren, you have a visitor." It was Jilliana's voice, laced with slight tension.

"I'll be out in a moment."

...

A clean-cut gentleman stood on the foyer, patiently waiting with critical eyes as Maren approached him. Her steps were careful, that of a nervous mouse sniffing in suspicion before scurrying for the cheese.

Of course, Logan Michaels was the trickster cat standing behind the trap. "Good evening, Miss."

"Good evening, Logan." She tried for a smile, knowing full well he wouldn't fall for her pleasantries. "Care to join me for supper?"

Logan chuckled to himself, extending his hand to offer an envelope. Once her hand enclosed the rough paper, he bowed his head. "Greetings from your father."

Maren froze. This was worse than she expected. Before she could utter a word, her father's butler turned swiftly and showed himself out the door, no doubt grinning from ear to ear.

"Loathsome man." Jilliana clicked her tongue, rushing to clean where his footsteps had practically burned an invisible mark with his evil presence.

Maren went upstairs, sitting in her bed. She stared at the envelope for long minutes before she ripped it open, the contents falling on her lap. It was an army of photographs.

Her heart skipped a beat as she examined the first snapshot. A pained gasp flew from her lips as she saw who it was. They weren't close, but he was a good friend.

Trembling fingers traced Embry Call's face, scratched with an angry red cross.