THE LUNA OF PROPHECY
She poured the blue liquid into a glass and forced it toward my lips.
“Drink,” she commanded.
I shook my head weakly, but one of her men held me down while another pinched my nose until I gasped for air. The liquid was poured down my throat. It burned. Within moments, my limbs went heavy, my body trembling from the inside out. My wolf felt distant, quiet, suppressed.
Luna Sabrina began pacing slowly, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. “Now,” she said, her tone low and sharp, “you’re going to tell me the truth.”
Bab Populer