RADIEL.
I stood by the tall window of my London hotel room, staring out at the gray sky that seemed to stretch forever. The clouds hung low, heavy and dull, as if the sun had simply given up trying to shine here.
Rain tapped softly against the glass.
“Perfect,” I muttered dryly.
Of all the cities in the world, London had to be the one place where the sky constantly looked like it was in a bad mood.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my trousers and turned away from the window. The room behind me was warm and polished, expensive in that quiet way luxury hotels often were. Soft carpets, neat furniture, the faint smell of coffee drifting from the small table near the couch.
But the weather outside still managed to ruin the atmosphere.
I sighed.
Unfortunately, I still had a few more
