Mated To Valentine
There's the bounty hunters and the Ascendants, I should be concerned.
But that rush—that thrill—is already creeping in.
I exhale. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."
"That’s the spirit!" Achilles claps his hands together. "Now, disguise time."
I grab my auburn wig, fixing it securely over my real hair. Achilles, meanwhile, transforms effortlessly.
His usual disguise takes shape—taller, slim nose, black hair, that ridiculous Aussie accent he always insists on.
"Jack’s back, baby," he announces, grinning.