They all had.
She had called for the death of a Luna under protection, the death of my mate, the death of the mother of my unborn child, the death of a moon-blessed wolf, and there were laws older than council seals for that.
I let go of Aria.
Only after making sure she was steady.
Only after feeling her fingers slip from mine and hating the empty space so violently I almost turned back to fill it again.
But Drake was already moving.
I was already moving.
The former Luna saw it then.
Death was knocking on her door.
Her mouth opened, maybe to scream, maybe to spit more poison, maybe to try one last time to turn the room against the woman she had spent years cutting down with smiles and perfume and the kind of cruelty respectable people called standards.
She did not get the chance.
