Replaced By A Fake: The True Luna's Revenge

pping echoed through the

k as he broke my hand f

sed a call from Joyce, the woman he bel

cut her own arm with glass and framed me for

ment and picked up a mechanica

vase," he said, his v

ole straight t

tch, while leaving me with permanent nerve damage, claim

ustice. He call

blind, arr

led into that burning car. It was my White Wolf blood that

le in my hand, the last e

er and messaged his swo

s blueprints. The p

ve wife dies, and the

pte

na

an I expected. It cracked through the silence of the

straight into my nervous system. It wasn't just physical; it was the crushing weight of his

er her call, Ala

adjusting his cufflinks, looking at me not as hi

body tried to knit the shattered metacarpals back together. But I

e you were 'in the shower,' she had

and walked out. H

on the cold floor. My

her finger sat a ring made of moonstone-a relic supposed to

y skin feels so soft. Does your hand hurt? Do

air around me suddenly grew heavy again. Austen's voi

ou smell like distre

most, a tool for lo

eeded to know why. Why did he hate me so much? I had done everything. I had hidd

. The house was quiet. Austen

erything, a habit born of paranoia. I sat at his desk, bypassing his biometric encryption with a few keystr

file dated

unding weary. "I broke her hand to

us

mind, calling her Mate. But I have to suppress him. I owe Joyce a life debt. She pulled me from the burning wreckag

fr

. "Her pain pays my debt to Joyce. Justice is m

cordin

e called t

. The Rogue attac

n. The burning car. The boy with dark hair, ch

the strange, silver fire of my White Wolf blood-a lineage hunted to near extinction-po

my parents swore me to secrecy

had found us after I passed

spered. "You blin

wolf, usually dormant, lifted her head. She was a

for saving him,

he would kill me, piece by pie

a secur

lton, Silver

The Ar

e Fortress

anti-Rogue bastions you wan

's sworn enemy. R

e

The pain brought clarity. Austen didn't j

wife. I was h

oat was go