Months passed.
Months of him finding assassins, and those that’d hire them, to kill me.
Him dispatching them, before they could get anywhere near me.
One after another. Until even I’d heard of his many triumphs.
His decimation of killers.
He’s certainly diligent.
And though he cast me prolonged side-eyed looks when he passed me in the long halls, he didn’t demand p*****t.
But I could tell from the annoyance on his features that he was growing further and further impatient.
Wanting me to make good on my word.
But if he thought I’d catch him and offer it to him, he was insane.
He’ll have to ask me.
And even that thought chaffed my nerves.
Would I? Even then?
I needed him in a very practical, primal sort of way. I was a female, with little power. And not particularly be
