The shed reeked of rot and regret.
Brandon slouched in a wooden chair, wrists bound, face twisted in fury. Across from him, Amber sat upright, her wrists bloodied where the restraints had rubbed her raw. Her mouth was tight, but her eyes flicked with calculation. She was already thinking of how to survive.
When the door creaked open, the outside light spilled into the dim interior. Amber squinted, eyes adjusting—until her breath caught.
She recognized the woman beside her son instantly.
A chill skated down her spine.
“You must be the famed Eliza,” she said, forcing a smile, all teeth and mockery. “Wish I’d had time to dress for the occasion—greeting another Luna and all—but as you can see...” She nodded toward her restraints. “I’m a little tied up.”
Eliza didn’t answer. She stepped f
