It was in the cusp of winter that had Valene Connors staring impassively at the bloody form of Ascot Hunter, unyielding. He met her gaze, head-on with a purpose, but with the subtle slacking of his shoulders, Valene could see his resolve failing.
He pursed his lips in a scowl. “Fine,” he spat, holding out a red hand in resignation.
Valene smiled serenely and handed over her prize. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she hummed. Continue reading MOS Ch 1
misminor 