The moment of hesitation cost me.
One second I was standing between them—Alexander with his desperate love, Markus with his poisoned truths—and the next, something flew through the broken window. Fast. Too fast to see. Too fast to dodge.
The cross struck my shoulder.
Not hard enough to pierce—it was the flat of it, not the tip—but the silver burned. Oh God, it *burned*. I screamed, stumbling backward, my hand flying to my shoulder where the metal had seared my skin through my shirt.
"Luna!"
Alexander's voice was a roar, but I couldn't see him. My vision had gone white with pain. The smell of burnt fabric, burnt *flesh*, filled my nose. I clawed at my collar, trying to get the fabric away from my skin, but it was already melted into the wound.
Then strong arms were around me, lifting
