It was never about love or revenge; it was always about the money.
The gunshot was a deafening crack that splintered the ancient oak of the desk, sending a shower of wood dust into the air. I flinched, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Lysander’s body was a solid, immovable shield in front of me, his back pressed against mine.
“A little to the left next time,” I breathed, my voice trembling only slightly. “I think he missed the part of my hair I was hoping to have trimmed.”
Lysander’s low chuckle was a dark, thrilling sound in the tense silence. “Noted. I’ll ask him for a more precise aim for his next attempt.”
The lead mercenary, a mountain of a man with a cold, professional gaze, advanced slowly, his weapon trained on us. The only exit was behind him.
“The key,
