Isabella
Trying to save your kid sister while a magical portal yanks you into a strange city with a pack of backstabbing wolves is not the family bonding I had in mind. I’m clinging to Angelo, who’s more blood than man at this point, as we’re spat out onto a gritty rooftop overlooking a neon-lit skyline that screams “not Chicago.” Rosalia’s a few feet away, scrambling to her feet, her face a mix of fury and fear. Andre’s holding the journal, its runes glowing like a bad omen, and Don Moretti’s talisman is still humming, keeping us pinned. Enzo’s down, the silver wolf’s out cold, and I’m wondering if I should’ve stayed in hiding instead of playing hero. Trust is a luxury I can’t afford, but Rosalia’s my only reason to keep fighting, even if she thinks I’m just another liar.
The air’s thic
