A Luna And A Whore
And when the door finally burst open—when Reolica and two guards spilled into the room, weapons drawn—they found Jasmine standing barefoot, naked, smeared in blood that wasn’t hers.
Not once had she begged.
Not once had she broken.
Reolica stared, eyes wide.
“Who did this?” she whispered.
Jasmine looked at her, unblinking.
“They did.”
She stepped forward, blood dripping between her legs, the scent of sex and violence thick on her skin.
And she smiled.
Because they had tried to break her.
And she’d reminded them all…
She was the one who broke first.
And last.