DENNYJAY: TO TOUCH AN OMEGA
He was unreadable, and that was far more terrifying than Max’s barely contained hatred.
“Denny,” I breathed.
That name was a star in the house, among my men. In fact, it had become a star across territories, among the Regions themselves. His face, too, was well known—but with Becky’s features, he was unrecognisable. It was safer that way. Dressed as Becky, no one could identify him until he reached his destination. Yet the moment his name left my lips, my men saw through the disguise. They saw his true self, and their once-stirred, cautious stares narrowed, then eased.