Penelope POV
"Drink it, Princess, or your little friend here becomes community property for the night."
The eyepatch-wearing Beta shoves a pint glass across the sticky timber bar.
The dark beer inside sloshes against the rim.
It smells like cheap copper, burnt sugar, and the chemical sting of a wolf-suppressant drug.
I do not blink.
I do not look down at the glass.
My boots are locked onto the sticky floorboards of the Moon Bar.
To my left, Eliora stumbles. Her fingers clutch at the air as two low-tier Rogues pinch her elbows, anchoring her in place. Her head hangs low, her pale cheeks flushed a deep, unnatural scarlet from the Wolf Blood liquor.
"Get your filthy hands off her," I say.
My voice is flat.
It does not shake.
The eyepatch Beta barks out a wet laugh, his breath reek
