EMMA
The Great Hall was a masterpiece of deception.
I stood on the mezzanine, looking down at the rows of long timber tables draped in heavy black linen. To any casual observer—or the traitors currently nursing drinks below—it looked like a desperate attempt at a white flag. After the "accidental" gas leak in the sub-levels and Julian’s suspicious "rescue" of the pack from the poisoned well, I had played the part of the humbled architect perfectly. I’d spent forty-eight hours with my head down, organizing this "Unity Feast" to celebrate our survival.
In reality, I was setting the stage for a m******e.
"Everything is in place, Luna," Bastien whispered behind me. He looked uncomfortable in a clean leather vest, his eyes darting toward the shadows. "The bikers are restless. They don't lik
