Andrew
I slammed the door to the hotel room hard enough to make the walls shudder. I was soaked from the rain. My hands were shaking, not from fear but from fury. My shoes squelched on the carpet as I made my way toward the desk where my briefcase waited.
Tyler had turned him down. Twice.
The spell was supposed to work. It had been crafted by a high-ranking witch, guaranteed to nudge Tyle toward compliance.
Instead, the little bastard had resisted it like it was child’s play.
Worse, he had the nerve to refuse me.
I’d underestimated the boy’s new moral compass, probably a side effect of whatever therapy he’d gotten to scrape off the Brightclaw rot.
I stalked across the room and yanked my briefcase onto the bed, throwing it open. My heart sank when I saw the shattered orb at the botto
