“Sarayev’s men,” she said. “Because I turned him down earlier, I think he was still salty and sent one of the men after me. He tried to slash my face.”
He could leave the situation alone since Xara had handled herself well, but his brain wasn’t exactly wired that way.
It needed an outlet. Retribution. Bloodshed. And it would get it. Soon.
Xara jerked away from the person’s hold. They spoke with an accent that sounded distinctively Russian. A gentle Russian. Like if the language was hit with a cloud of setting powder. A man, tall with blond hair past his shoulders and icy blue eyes, waved. “Hallo.” “Can I help you?” she asked. “No, no.” HeContinue reading “Ready?”