Lena
The room didn’t stop moving.
That was the strange part.
People still laughed.
Champagne still flowed.
A string quartet still played softly somewhere near the center of the ballroom.
Yet the second Matteo Salvatore raised his glass toward Damien, everything changed.
At least for me.
Because I saw the look on Damien’s face.
And I knew.
War had just walked into the room wearing a tailored suit.
Salvatore stood across the ballroom near the balcony doors, perfectly composed beneath the glittering lights of Elysian Heights.
He looked younger than I expected.
Mid-thirties maybe.
Dark hair.
Sharp features.
Expensive suit.
The kind of man who could blend into a crowd if you didn’t know better.
But I knew better.
Because monsters rarely looked like monsters.
They looked cha
