The world outside the Moonlight Pack mansion was draped in black banners, a pathetic attempt to make grief look respectable. Inside, however, grief wasn’t what roamed these halls...it was ambition, sharp as a blade and twice as cold.
Gaia stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection as though she was sizing up a corpse, her own, or maybe the one she’d just buried in her heart long before he actually died.
The glass reflected her swollen under-eyes, the purplish shadows sinking deep into her skin. It wasn’t from crying. No, tears were for the weak or the believable. Hers came from restless nights plotting her next move.
In her right hand, the sleek black hair clipper buzzed like an insect trapped in a jar, the sound almost hypnotic. Her fingers clenched it so hard her knuckles whit
