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Chapter 110: Ceaseless Oppression
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Chapter 112: New Power
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... with a hammer, then jammed it back into my body with all the precision of a drunken mason installing a crooked support beam.
My eyelids peeled open with all the grace of a rusted portcullis, and the first thing I saw was Iskanda. Of course it was Iskanda. The woman was sitting upright in the bed like she’d never needed sleep a day in her life, legs crossed, sheets pooled around her waist.
The shadows clung to her in a way that suggested they were deeply enamored with the privileg ...
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