THE BILLIONAIRE WEREWOLF AND HIS DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
If she didn’t choose, she’d be branded a traitor to her kind, as if she didn’t want the Regalia clan to grow.
“Jaigan’s clan is coming too,” Marlowe said as our sticks clashed again and again.
“I know,” I grunted, twisting my body to dodge his blows.
“And you know he’ll pick Desmond as his champion?” Again, it wasn’t a question—but I answered anyway.
“I know.”
“Diablo’s son, Mist, is also going to be his clan’s champion,” he said, dodging my swing as lightly as grass in the wind.
“What are you getting at, Marlowe?” I said, giving up after he slammed me to the hard ground. I got up and walked to the table for a bottle of water.
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