The cave still smelled of blood—iron thick in the air, sharp enough to taste. Yet somehow, between the flickering shadows and the steady thrum of torchlight, something heavier pressed between them.
Harper shifted her stance, chin lifted, eyes hard. “Talk about what, exactly?” she snapped, her voice sharp but trembling at the edges. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Ashcroft!”
Ashcroft’s grin unfurled slow and knowing, the kind that promised trouble. “That’s quite bold coming from you. Between the two of us, you’re the one who loves playing games, Harper Lin.”
He stepped closer, the firelight slicing across his features in harsh gold and shadow. The silence stretched—taut, deliberate—before his tone dipped low, smooth as poison.
“Or should I say…” he paused, eyes glinting with cruel
