Chasing His Rejected Luna
the third woman added lazily, “to pick one off the streets.”
Their eyes stayed on me, stripping, judging, enjoying my discomfort.
The Luna said nothing at first. She simply stared—long, cold, and sharp, like she was deciding whether I was worth the air I breathed.
“And what are you still doing here?” she finally asked, her voice slicing clean through her friends’ chatter. “Get lost.”
“Yes, Luna,” I said softly.