đ©đđ„đđđąđŠđąđ«đȘ
Veronique's laugh was sharp, brittle. "Lilith Brooks may be a Marked Hybrid, but she is no Luna, Vladimir. She will never be."
I remained by the door, arms crossed. "Your opinion has been noted."
"It's not opinionâit's fact." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a folder, slapping it onto my desk. Photos spilled out. "Look at her. Really look at what you're trying to make into a Luna."
I didn't move to examine them, but my eyes tracked to the images. Surveillance photos from CCTV cameras around her campus. Lilith in the human realmâwearing a stained hoodie, curly hair oily around her face, holding what appeared to be a half-eaten sandwich that had seen better days. Another showed her in oversized sweatpants, hunched over a stack of papers in what looked like a dingy apartment, taken by a friend of hers.