Daggermouth

“What do we do now?” Lira asked from the hallway’s opening, and Callum’s eyes shot up to see her not in her dress, but in the clothes he had kept for her here in silent prayer that she would someday wear them.

His heart convulsed at the sight. At the dream that had miraculously come true at the worst possible timing. He stared at her for a long second, the way the black pants hugged her curves, how her brown hair flowed over her shoulders spilling down the front of the grey knit sweater. The gun strapped snugly to the side of her thigh.

Callum cleared his throat, standing from his desk.

“We’re going to Wolf’s Head.”

Lira froze, looking at him with surprise. “The Daggermouth bar? They’ll kill me on sight.”

“Not if you’re with me.” He holstered his gun, then reached for a blade sitting on the desk’s surface and pushed it in beside his other weapons. “If Maximus thinks he can use the people we care about as pawns, he’s about to learn exactly what I’m capable of.”