Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
Her chest ached in a good way.
“It’s a little long,” she said, voice rough.
“You’re the editor,” he said. “Cut where you need to.”
She read it again.
Didn’t cut a word.
Outside, the rain had stopped. In the quiet that followed, the fridge hummed, and Corvin’s hand settled, warm and steady, on her shoulder—ordinary sounds, ordinary touch, holding the weight of an extraordinary story finally set down.