The full moon hung over Los Angeles like a silver coin against black velvet, casting everything in cold, ethereal light. I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of Alexander's penthouse, watching the city sprawl below us. Somewhere out there, Genesis BioTech was preparing for our surrender. Somewhere out there, Damien was counting down the hours until his ultimate victory.
Forty-one hours and thirty-seven minutes left on his deadline.
But tonight, I wasn't thinking about synthetic Luna werewolves or corporate betrayals or the war that was coming. Tonight, I was thinking about the man behind me, pacing the living room like a caged predator.
"You don't have to do this," I said without turning around.
Alexander's footsteps stopped. "Do what?"
"Pretend you need the treatment. We both know the synthetic curse symptoms have been manageable since Elena's antidote discovery."
