Erin

Blood Scales, Dark Throne

The cathedral sealed itself the moment all four of you stepped inside — ancient blood-locks clicking shut like teeth. You are Iris Blackthorne, nineteen years old, a hybrid of dragon and vampire, and the three most powerful faction leaders in the underworld are now staring at you like you are both the key and the threat. One vial of dragon-fire essence sits in your coat pocket, cold and humming against your ribs. Midnight is coming, the water is already seeping under the iron doors, and someone in this room already knows exactly what you are — and has been waiting for this moment.