13/02/2026 12:33

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Those names aren't going to belong to any of the dead. He was on one knee, the other leg turned so that he shielded himself from my view. The music from the stage died abruptly, and into that sudden silence Primo screamed. It sat in a custom-made sheath along my spine that attached to the shoulder holster, though it could be worn without, but not as comfortably.

There was a look on Requiem's face that was eloquent. But instead of those big pale shoulders bunching to throw the man, Primo's hand went back, and this time he closed his fist. He didn't understand that it wasn't a matter of sexual orientation. I love that she's afraid of me, and I hate myself for loving it.