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Chapter 166: Bath
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Chapter 168: Tomorrow’s Funeral
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... int drip of water from the faucet. Trafalgar sat in the bath, the compass resting in his damp hand, waiting—hoping—for the voice to return. But the air remained still.
His jaw tightened. "How the hell did you even speak to me?" he muttered aloud, the words echoing faintly against the tiles. No answer came.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. ’Of course. She’s not going to make this easy. She doesn’t want me to find her. Which means... I’ll have to wait until fate decides to t ...
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