SERAPHINA’S POV
The Elysian hotel had not changed over the last decade.
The same ivory façade rose into the Los Angeles evening, gilded balconies catching the amber wash of sunset.
The same towering glass doors reflected the red carpet unfurled across the entrance.
Even the chandeliers inside—visible through the high windows—glimmered with the same ostentatious brilliance they had eleven years ago during the Blood Moon Hunt.
I had known the Hunting Festival would be hosted here.
But no amount of mental preparation could shield me from the tidal wave of dread now crashing through me.
As Maya, Ethan, and I stepped out of our limo, I hesitated mid-step, my heels pausing on the pavement.
The air reeked of jasmine and luxury, but beneath it all, memory stabbed—a younger, shattered me, clutching silk sheets to preserve what was left of my dignity, heart in splinters as I was cast as the villain in my own life.
