His Shattered Luna
I told him everything: the holding company, the chemist, the payment just before Cassian showed up, the pointed questions in the hallway.
He went very still. “He stood in this house, shook my hand while I was dying, and asked how he could help.”
“I know.”
“And the whole time.”
“I know, Damien.”
He stared out the window, forcing calm. “How many signatures?”
“Five,” I said.
“Who’s left?”
I named them. He didn’t blink—just shifted, a quiet decision.
“Alpha Korr,” he said. “We trained together before we held rank. He owes me—never had a chance to pay it back.” Damien reached for the phone, hand shaking a bit, still worn out from the night. “Help me sit up. I’m calling him directly.”
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