The next day, as the evening shadows stretched over the estate, I was sitting in the living room, quietly reading a book when the doorbell rang. Matilda was already on her way to answer it, and I paid little attention, assuming it was someone from the pack or one of Faruk’s associates. My mind was still tangled in thoughts about the previous day, about Faruk, and—inevitably—about Lucien. The memory of the club, of his hand on my wrist, still unsettled me.
After a few moments, Matilda reappeared, followed by a group of people dressed in elegant black. One of them, a woman with sleek dark hair pulled into a bun, approached me with a professional smile.
“Luna Sasha,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “We have been sent by the Aloha king to help you get ready for the party tonight.”
I bli
