I watched my daughter sleep, her chest rising and falling beneath her pink comforter. So peaceful. So useful.
Satisfaction warmed my chest as I stroked Isabelle's silky blonde hair. Everything was falling perfectly into place. That pathetic excuse for a Luna was locked away in the cellar where she belonged, and Julian was putty in my hands once again.
"Such a good girl," I whispered, my fingers trailing down Isabelle's flushed cheek. "Mommy's perfect little helper."
I glanced at my phone. Almost midnight. Julian would be asleep by now, having completely forgotten about his so-called mate rotting below. Men were so predictable in their negligence.
"Time to secure my position, darling," I murmured, carefully pulling back Isabelle's covers.
I lifted her sleeping form into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling against me. Such trust. Such innocence. Such a perfect tool.
