Ruhn said to her, “I asked you to come. Not him.”
Bryce linked her arm through Athalar’s, the portrait they painted laughable: Bryce in her fancy work dress and heels, the
angel in his black battle-suit. “We’re joined at the hip now, unfortunately for you. Best, best friends.”
“The best,” Hunt echoed, his grin unfading.
Luna shoot him dead. This would not end well