I faced her again. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Her expression hardened then, the softness she’d worn since her return slipping away like a discarded mask. This was the woman I knew. The former Luna. The strategist.
“I love Faye,” she said. “But love does not erase consequence. They don’t want to kill her… I won’t let them kill her or my grandchild. They want her blood. A small amount. Enough for the ritual. Atlas gave his word.”
That was when disbelief finally curdled into something uglier.
“You trust his word?” I demanded. “A Shadow Fang Alpha’s word?”
“I trust reality,” Helen replied coolly.
I stared at her, seeing something I hadn’t wanted to see before—how far her judgment had shifted, how entangled she had become in dangerous circles.
“This is because of him,” I said bitter
