CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Four years ago …
The barrel of the gun was cold against my forehead. As a mage, I had very little experience with amage weaponry, so a part of me wanted to look at the gun a little bit more closely, but my survival instincts kicked in and I just stared at the man holding the gun against my head.
He was an overweight, balding middle-aged man with a lopsided mouth. He wore shabby gray robes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a while and he smelled like a mixture of alcohol and cheap cigarettes. His eyes were bloodshot, yet his grip on his gun was surprisingly firm as he held it against my head. His face was covered with stubble that made him look like he had thrown ash over his mouth, chin, and cheeks.
“Are you Noah House?” asked the man. His voice was gruff
