Fractured
If he can’t tell me where Harper is, he can at least expose himself and his faction.
“John Morrison,” he responds, sounding bored.
“How long have you been in the human realm, John?”
“All my life.”
“And how old are you?” I ask. He looks to be in his mid-thirties.
“26.”
“Wow, it looks like you had a tough paper round, John, I thought you were older than me,” Josie says as she enters the dining room where John is secured. She must have been listening to us from the kitchen.
John’s eyes light up at the sight of Josie and I clench my fists, stopping myself from punching him again.
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