Thoren
It had been hours.
I stared at the same sentence on the same report for the fourth time, pen unmoving in my hand. The words bled together, meaningless. Because in the back of my mind, one thought kept looping like a curse:
How the f**k do I tell Nevara I let that woman stall the test?
Kael sat across from me, boots kicked up on the table, tossing a pen cap in the air like we weren’t both stewing in the same pit of dread.
“She’s not gonna like it,” he finally said.
“No s**t,” I muttered.
I was about to push to my feet and just go—to the hotel, to Bethany’s door, to whatever bullshit excuse she’d cooked up—when Kael’s phone rang.
He sat up fast, catching the call on speaker. “Kael.”
“Sir—it’s Guard Halden at the hotel.”
My shoulders locked.
The man continued, his voice low.
