Chapter 117

Lana’s POV

The metallic scent of blood was a thick fog in the alley. I stood frozen, my scream still vibrating in my throat, staring at the dark shape on the ground. Sheila bent over, wiping her claws clean on the rogue’s own jacket. The motion was disturbingly casual, like cleaning a bit of dirt from a shoe.

She straightened up, ran a hand through her perfectly tousled hair, and let out a short sigh, as if she’d just taken out the trash. She glanced at the club’s back door, then at me, her exp