Angelo
Falling into a chasm with a pissed-off teenager and a journal that’s basically a “destroy me” beacon is not how I planned to spend my night. My body’s screaming, blood seeping from wounds that won’t close, and Rosalia’s slipping from my grip as we plummet into darkness. That woman’s voice, sharp and commanding, echoes in my skull, “Claim your bloodline!” It’s like the universe decided I haven’t had enough cryptic nonsense for one day. I’m supposed to protect Rosalia, not drag her into an abyss, but here we are, and I’m wondering if I’ve finally screwed up beyond repair.
The air’s cold, thick with the smell of damp stone and something sour, like old magic. My wolf’s barely conscious, too weak to shift, and every instinct’s yelling at me to save her. Rosalia. The girl I swore to gua
