Sixty Days Of Fire
He wasn’t my real father, but he raised me, loved me, and I never felt the absence of the parents I never knew.
After the cake and presents, Noah and I headed to the festival of the Blood Moon.
The Blood Moon was the biggest festival we had. It came once every two years, only on the night when the moon turned red and lit up the sky. People believed it was special—a night when bonds grew stronger and fates could shift.
And this year, it fell on my eighteenth birthday. That had never happened before, not even to an Alpha’s child or the Alpha himself. So maybe that meant I was special. But orphans don’t get to be special.
Bab Populer