His Bride on Paper
Cassara’s voice bled through the metal, amplified, cold, certain: “Naia Isadora Lastra. Step aside, and I’ll make it quick.”
Lazarus smirked at the sound. “She doesn’t know you anymore.”
But I did know Cassara. I knew the way she moved, the way she aimed, the way she smiled before pulling the trigger.
I took one step forward, planting myself in the line of sight of that bending door. “You want me?” I said, loud enough for the voice on the other side to hear. “Come and take me.”
The final boom split the door from its hinges.
They poured in. Armored, faceless, weapons raised.
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