To Kill a Luna
Dorothee.
She’s standing there, arms crossed, eyes blazing.
“What the hell was that!?”
For a moment, I can’t breathe. The sight of her—alive, strong, fire in her eyes—shatters me. Before she can say another word, I rush to her, wrapping my arms around her with a strangled cry. Real. She’s real.
Sweet, fierce Dorothee. The one who died protecting me, her blood staining my hands, her body going cold in my arms.
Bab Populer