Angelo
You know you’re in trouble when you’re half-dead in a stone hall, watching the girl you’d die for get dragged toward a glowing throne by a traitor who used to be your best friend. I’m slumped against a cold pillar, blood pooling, my wolf a faint whisper as Rosalia fights Camila’s grip, her glow gone, her eyes blazing with defiance.
Andre’s on the throne, the journal open in his hands, its runes pulsing with Rosalia’s bloodline power, stolen and twisted. The woman’s talisman lies shattered, her body gone, but the silver wolf’s sacrifice, maybe Vincezio, haunts me, its last charge giving us a chance.
Isabella’s chained nearby, bloodied but struggling, and Moretti’s wolves guard the hall, their eyes empty. Trust is a ghost, betrayal’s our jailer, and I’m failing Rosalia when she n
