Reclaiming My Broken Luna
Then one of them, a tall, lean man with sunken eyes and a wicked grin, let out a sharp laugh.
“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping forward.
“Look what we have here, boys.” His gaze dragged over me, his amusement clear. “The great Astrid, the Almega, reduced to nothing but a desperate mother.”
A ripple of cruel laughter followed.
I clenched my fists at my sides, but said nothing.
My silence only seemed to encourage them.
Another rogue, this one broader with a scar running down his cheek, smirked. “Didn’t think it’d be this easy,” he mused. “I figured we’d at least get a fight out of her.”
Bab Populer