My Alpha is a Lunatic
Her eyes focus on me, swimming with confusion and fading pain.
“Long time no see,” I say, my voice softer.
I kneel, ignoring the protest of my ruined muscles. From a hidden inventory slot—one that just unlocked with my memories—I pull a small vial of inky black liquid. Soul-Anchor Tincture. A-Class. Horrendously expensive. I uncork it and tip it into her spectral mouth.
She convulses once, then stills. The chaos in her eyes clears, solidifying into the sharp, intelligent gaze I remember. The gaze of Jenna Torres, my point-man and friend.
Bab Populer