Moonbound At Sliver Ridge
The wards hummed louder, feeding on humiliation, dominance, conflict.
I forced my voice steady. Sharp. Controlled.
“Funny,” I said. “I don’t remember asking for your sex life résumés. Or your delusions.”
Their smiles slipped.
But before they could bite back, Babe arrived.
She always arrived like a storm—gold braid gleaming, lips blood-red, an entourage trailing her like she was royalty and not just a mean girl with a throne made of insecurity.
She didn’t sit.
She claimed the bench.
“Well, well,” she drawled. “The quads’ Luna, eating alone without her protectors. Tell me, Rhea—what’s it like being a charity case one day and the Alphas’ plaything the next?”
Bab Populer