Chapter 10 · free to read
There was no technique in it at all. There was a nineteen-year-old with a hole where a brother used to be.
The storm took nine feet of the hearth and every candle in it.
She never raised a guard. That was the whole of her defence, and it was deliberate.
It had never had a direction before. Now it had an address, a contract number and a name on it.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.