The Forgotten Luna
I swirled the bourbon, waiting for Isaiah’s report, my patience as thin as the glass in my hand.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and Isaiah stepped inside, his blue eyes sharp under the shadow of his umbrella, a necessity even in the dim evening. His face was unreadable, but the set of his jaw told me the news wasn’t what I’d hoped. I raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to speak.
“My lord,” Isaiah began with a bow, his voice steady, “the Alphas—Rohan, Damon, and Dayton—worked together. They defeated the vampires we sent. All of them.”
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