Books are spread across my desk like the aftermath of a storm. Ivy sits on the edge of it with her legs crossed, flipping through some leather-bound book that looks older than both of us. Her bottom lip tugs between her teeth. She’s focused and fierce, like the warrior I know she is.
Chloe and Fiona are lounging on the black leather couch across the room, still smelling faintly of smoke and scorched fur. The hellhound’s blood is gone from their skin, but something lingers in their eyes. This wasn’t an experience any of them would soon forget.
“You okay?” I ask Ivy softly, keeping my voice low. She looks up, blinking as though surfacing from a deep current.
“Yeah. Just… this stuff is wild. I can’t believe that thing was real,” she replies and I nod. Neither can I. A hellhound. Created a
