The Alpha's Runaway Luna
Pretty in a way that makes my eyes twitch, and fingers curl.
“Don’t touch,” I say, and Ares freezes like I tied him. I pull a cut-proof glove and a glass jar from my pack, because I am a woman who learned fast. Iron ash first, dust the world like a pastry, then the jar, and then the lid.
The river laughs, just a ripple, but it sounds like a word. Three pylons down, something silver blinks and is gone.
‘Nova?’ I ask.
‘A bell under water’, she answers, low. ‘Wrong song. Move!’
Sikat na Kabanata