Rosalia
You ever have one of those days where you’re like, “Okay, I’ve hit peak chaos,” and then your backstabbing best friend shows up glowing like a radioactive influencer, offering a deal in a creepy forest full of magic wolves? That’s me, sprawled in dirt and branches, with Isabella shielding me from glowing-eyed beasts circling us. Angelo’s unconscious, blood pooling under him, and Camila’s standing there, radiating power like she’s auditioning for a villain arc.
Moretti’s talisman is cracked but glowing, Andre’s got my dad’s journal, and the silver wolf’s gone, maybe dead, maybe Dad. Trust is a pipe dream, betrayal’s my brand, and I’m one wrong move from losing everything.
Camila’s eyes glint, her glow casting eerie shadows on the trees. “Rosalia,” she says, voice soft but sharp,
