“You know, Alpha Draven didn’t take you to the hospital last month when your father was dying after the rogue attacked your parents…”
Her lips curled wickedly. “Because I had a beauty appointment. He said my face was more important than that old man’s last breath.”
She waved her phone at me. A picture flashed—her and Draven wrapped together in furs, snow in the background. I slapped it out of her hand.
She gasped and shoved me. My body slammed into a bookshelf with a thud. Glass shattered beneath me, and pain spiked through my spine.
And then it started.
The ground trembled. The air thickened. Dust rained from the ceiling like ash.
“An… earthquake?” Freya shrieked, her bravado crumbling.
No. Not an earthquake.
A shift. A Moonfall's shift.
My pulse quickened. The ground was alive with something older than tectonics—magic, and it was primal and untamed.
Smoke unfurled like a living beast from the hallway. A fire sparked in the distance—an overloaded circuit or something darker. The scent of scorched fur and silver filled the air.
I tried to stand but collapsed, my weakened body giving in. Sharp pain lanced through my ribs. My wolf howled in the back of my mind, powerless.
“Ella!”