Chloe
The conference room smelled like leather, warm metal, and fresh coffee—comforting in a way I hadn’t expected. Sunlight spilled through the high windows, catching on coils of silver alloy and scattering light across the long tables where Ayla and I worked shoulder to shoulder.
She had her hair twisted up, charcoal smudged on her cheek, eyes bright with focus as she fitted the first crest into a leather band. The Cresent Hallow symbol gleamed once it was set—subtle, elegant. Protective.
“My dad is going to lose his mind when he sees these,” Ayla murmured, testing the clasp. “In a good way.”
I smiled as I threaded a fine chain through the back of a pendant, my fingers steady despite the weight sitting in my chest. “He already has,” I said softly. “He's about to lose it again though
