BY MORNING, Zentrakii’s palms had broken badly. The needles created several open sores, and some of them bled lightly. Still, with heavy eyes, she didn't stop stitching.
While Zayn slept peacefully on his bed, Zentrakii was busy stitching up the remaining clothes belonging to the sentinels and her fellow maids.
Zayn had warned her to finish stitching up all the clothes by dawn. Failure to do so, and he was going to let her feel his wrath.
She thought all he had put her through within the past week was his 'wrath'. If he still spoke about some other 'wrath', then she best wanted to avoid it.
She wasn't interested in knowing what could be worse than her current predicament.
Tears fell from her eyes as she weakly passed the needle through the last piece piece of clothing, for its fina
