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Chapter 105: Meeting Iskanda
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Chapter 107: Sending a Message
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... ly nothing to soothe the screaming chaos in my skull. Iskanda’s question hung in the air like a guillotine blade—casual, innocent, devastating.
Her eyes were on me, sharp and patient, that faint smirk still playing at the corners of her mouth like she already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to dig my own grave.
Do I stink?
As if she could ever stink. As if the woman who smelled like crushed herbs after rain, sun-warmed stone, and something indefinably command ...
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