Becoming Blue
Shadows stretched like claws under the flickering lights, and every creak of the wooden planks screamed of unseen threats.
“Damien…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Are you sure—”
“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
A slow clap broke the silence.
From the darkness, a figure emerged—tall, lean, draped in a black coat. His face came into view under the dim glow of a streetlamp, and Elena’s breath hitched.
Victor Hale.
His smile was razor-sharp, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Well, well. The king and his stolen queen.”
Bab Populer