The Luna's Tattoos
DAMIEN’S POV
I leaned against the wall in Daiki’s study, my arms crossed tight, the late afternoon sun spilling through the tall windows of Blackbeard Pack’s keep, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow. The air smelled of polished wood and faint traces of antiseptic, a reminder of Daiki’s recent brush with death. He stood across from me, his frame solid again, his dark hair swept back, his shirt stretched over muscles that had finally knit whole. No more bandages, no more pallor, he moved with the easy grace of an alpha restored, his boots scuffing the floor as he paced, his voice steady as he recounted the latest patrol routes.
Bab Populer