The Grand Dame's mansion stirred in the gathering twilight, its aristocratic bones settling into rhythms of refuge. Moonlight spilled through leaded glass, painting silver shadows across marble floors that had never expected to witness this kind of transformation. Mrs. Rodriguez moved through the ethereal glow with ruthless efficiency, somehow turning supernatural crisis management into an Olympic sport while the mansion's old magic whispered against their skin.
Another pained cry echoed from the infirmary wing, and Daisy's fingers found the Moon's Tear at her throat. Seven women remained of her brother's harem, each chosen specifically for the power in their bloodlines, each carrying children he'd been convinced would reshape the future of their kind. Except for poor Marylou, who'd lost
