I barely slept that night.
Every breath sent a sharp reminder through my ribs, each pulse in my hand a dull ache from bruised knuckles.
The pain was manageable; it was my thoughts that wouldn’t let me rest. I ran through every possible alternative to save Kent without selling my soul, but I kept hitting the same brick wall. Either I gave in to these bastards’ demands, or I let Kent suffer— maybe even die.
Time was running out, yet there I lay on the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, torn between the weight of my choices and the fear of making the wrong one.
When had everything gone so wrong? When had my once peaceful and comfortable life in Grosthe turned into such a damn nightmare? I had more targets on my back now than I’d had in years. And this time, they weren’t easy to get rid
