The neon sign of La Luna buzzed like a trapped wasp.
Linda leaned against the van, her wings—usually veiled—flickering at the edges of reality. Emilia watched as her friend pressed a hand to the brick wall, murmuring a fae incantation that made the air hum.
"Everyone's looking for you," Linda muttered, her voice strained. "This glamour's gotta be bulletproof."
Emilia bit her lip. "Can you do it?"
Linda shot her a glare, emerald eyes glowing faintly. "Oh sure, let me just tap into my life force—you know, the thing that keeps my heart beating—to spin a dangerous spell so you can go flirt with your fling."
Emilia clasped her hands, deploying the puppy-dog eyes that always worked. "Please, Lyn."
"Ugh, fine." Linda's wings flared fully for a heartbeat, casting shards of light across the alley.
She pressed her palm to Emilia's forehead. The glamour slithered over her skin like liquid mercury, reshaping her features, inking serpentine tattoos down her arms that writhed under the club's neon.
"To the wolves, you're a skin-walker now," Linda said, breathing heavily. "Smell like one too. But it's fragile—touch anyone, and the illusion cracks. So, stat close. Blend in"
"Okay"
The bouncer at the door, a hulking werewolf with eyes like smoldering coals, sniffed Emilia's glamour-cloaked arm. His nostrils flared at the scent of wet fur and burnt ozone—a skin-walker's signature. He grunted, stepping aside.
Inside, the club was chaos.
Fae nobles in silks sipped moonwine from cups while werewolf packmates prowled the dance floor, their growls harmonizing with the bass.
A banshee's wail pierced the air, sending shivers through the humans huddled at the bar—wide-eyed, collared, their wrists marked with witch-runes.
Emilia's boots stuck to the floor, tacky with spilled fairy dust. It glittered in the air, it was addictive and lethal to humans, but Linda's glamour shielded her—for now.
At the bar, a bartender with copper rings arched a brow at them. "What'll it be, skin-walker?" His gaze lingered on Linda's trembling hands.
"Whiskey. Neat," Linda snapped, slapping down a crumpled bill.
He slid her a glass, amber liquid sloshing. "You look like hell."
Linda downed it in one gulp. "Been worse."
Emilia leaned forward. "We need to leave a message for Luca."
The bartender froze. Behind him, a mirror cracked, the glass bleeding black liquid "He's not here."
"He'll come." Emilia pressed Paolo's switchblade into his palm—a bribe, anything to find her possible baby daddy. "Please, tell him Little Star's drowning. And give him this." She slid a napkin with the safehouse address, her handwriting shaky.
The bartender's pupils slit into wolfish voids. "You're playing with fire, girl."
"We're already burning," Linda hissed, dragging Emilia away.
Outside, Linda's glamour dissolved. Blood streamed from her nose, crimson against her ashen skin. Her wings—translucent and frayed, like torn stained glass—sagged behind her.
"Lyn!" Emilia caught her as she crumpled.
"Told you… bad idea," Linda rasped, her breath reeking of iron.
Emilia half-carried her to the van, guilt clawing her throat. "I'm sorry—I didn't know it'd hurt you this much—"
"Shut up… and drive."
The engine roared to life. Linda slumped in the passenger seat, her wings crumpling against the leather.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid!"
"It's fine. I'm fine" Linda whispered.
Emilia wasn't convinced. For a while they drove in silence but then she spoke.
"Why do you stay?" Emilia whispered, tears blurring the road. "You could've fled to another city after we escaped the Orleans dungeon. Been free."
Linda laughed, a hollow sound. "You really don't get it, do you?" She turned, her eyes glowing faintly. "That night… when you found me chained in that pit, you didn't see a fae. You saw me. And you said…"
Emilia's breath hitched. The memory surged—Linda, battered and wingless, snarling like a cornered animal in that dungeon. Emilia, sixteen and reckless, picking the locks with shaking hands.
"You said stick with me and I'll stick with you. And No one…" Linda's voice broke. "No one ever wanted me… without a price. Until you"
Emilia reached for her hand. Linda flinched but didn't pull away.
"You're my family, Emi. But you got to stop doing stupid shit. It's exhausting saving your dumb ass."
"I'm sorry"
"I need to sleep"
With that she turned around and closed her eyes.
Emilia barely made it to the safehouse before the rain started.
The safehouse trembled under the weight of the storm, rain slashing the windows like knives.
Linda lay unconscious on the old couch, her wings—now dull and brittle—curled around her like a shroud.
Blood crusted her nostrils, her breathing shallow. Emilia had tried every healing chant she remembered from Linda's grimoire, but the fae's magic was evaporating, and with it, her life.
"Wake up," Emilia begged, pressing a damp cloth to Linda's forehead. "Please."
A floorboard creaked. And she jumped.
Emilia spun, Linda's witchblade in hand. "Don't come closer!"
Luca stood in the doorway, rainwater sluicing off his leather coat. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the dark, an aura around him a palpable force—wild, electric, terrifying. But his voice, when he spoke, was a rasp. "Mila"
The blade clattered to the floor.
She didn't remember moving. One moment she was across the room; the next, her fists were clenched in his shirt, her face buried in his chest. He smelled like winter pine and blood, his heartbeat a frantic drum under her ear.
"i thought you died," she choked. "Leaving a message was a hail Mary, I genuinely thought they killed you and now Lyn's—"
His arms banded around her, crushing her to him. A growl vibrated in his throat, low and primal. "I'm here."
"It's too late." Her tears soaked his shirt. "The glamour—it's killing her… I don't know if—" She looked up, tears streaking her face. "I think I just killed my best friend, Luca—"
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was desperate, a clash of teeth and wildfire, his fingers tangling in her hair like he could fuse her to him. Emilia melted, her fear dissolving into a sob. He swallowed it, his kiss softening, becoming something tender and raw.
"Help" Her voice broke.
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Okay. Alright. I'm here"
A weak laugh bubbled from the couch. "Wow. Touching."
Linda's eyes were slits of emerald, her smirk bloodless. "Save the drama… for after I die, yeah?"
Emilia pulled away, but Luca kept an arm around her waist, anchoring her. "You're not dying," he said, voice edged with command.
"Says the mutt… who got us into this mess." Linda coughed, black blood flecking her lips. "What are you doing here?" Linda asked him.
"Lyn! He's just trying to help!"
Linda backed off. Or at least she used a softer voice. "Sure. How's he going to do that. Can your one night stand get Alpha Enzo to back off? Can he tell your father to stop being dick with a pipe up his ass?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "They won't touch her. No one will"
"Bullshit" Linda spat out. "Unless your first name is Enzo and last name is Marchetti. You are basically a pretty burden, no offense"
Emilia flinched. Luca's grip on her tightened. "I'll tear out the throat of anyone who tries to hurt her"
Silence fell, heavy with fear and the static charge of Luca's power. Emilia leaned into him, her tears quiet now, her fingers curling into his coat.
"Why did you come, anyway?" she whispered.
He rested his forehead against hers. "Because you're mine, I can't deny it anymore. And I protect what's mine."
Linda groaned. "Great. Another romantic"
But Emilia didn't let go. For the first time since the world collapsed, she felt safe.
Even if it was a lie.