Angelo
You know you’re in deep when you’re half-dead on a rooftop, watching your pack’s elders turn into a who’s-who of double-crossers, and the girl you’re sworn to protect is fighting a magical tug-of-war with everyone but you. Rosalia’s dragging me toward a fire escape, her face set with that stubborn fire I’d admire if I weren’t bleeding out. Rizzo’s back, waving a talisman like he’s auditioning for evil wizard, and the silver wolf’s eyes just flickered with something human, maybe Vincezio, before Rizzo’s magic locked it down again. Andre’s gone full glow-stick with the journal’s power, Moretti and Enzo are plotting, and the portal’s pulling us toward a void that smells like regret. I’m supposed to be Rosalia’s shield, but I’m a liability, and my secrets are burning us both.
My visio
