Page 39 of Warlord's Plaything

Of course, she doesn’t.

Even after that fucking disaster she led, she’s still fighting.

Still daring me to break her.

And I—I’m so fucking tired of wanting her.

"Leave."

The word slices the air.

The guards hesitate.

They think I mean them.

But my gaze is locked onto hers.

Hira lifts a brow.

"Oh?"she purrs, licking a cracked lip."Finally tired of an audience?"

The breath in my lungs turns to fire.

I grip the edges of my desk, forcing myself to stay fucking still.

"Go,"I growl, this time to the warriors in the room.

They shuffle out, not questioning it, not daring to linger.

The moment the door slams shut, the tension thickens, pulling taut like a noose.

"You’re bleeding."

It’s not a question.

Her lip curls like she doesn’t give a shit.

"So?"

I push off my desk, moving toward her, slow, controlled.

"So,"I echo,"you should be dead."

A lesser human would be.

A lesser anything would be.

That fight she walked out of? Should’ve ripped her apart.

And yet—she’s still here.

Still standing.

Still looking at me like I’m the fucking problem.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing?"I murmur.

She tilts her head, mocking curiosity.

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