Hunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 2)
Hunting Adeline: Part 2 – Chapter 42

My equilibrium teeters as my feet dangle over the cliff. I’m sitting on the very edge and I’m just waiting for the earth to give beneath me and send me crashing into the rocks below.

I’m balancing on the edge of life and death, and the thrill it gives me is undeniable. My heart is in my stomach, and even though it’d take putting my head between my legs for me to fall over the ledge, it feels like one inch forward, and my life is done for.

I love it.

The sun begins to dip in the cotton candy sky, a beautiful array of colors stretching toward me. I’m not sure if it’s the beauty before me or my precarious game with death that makes me feel alive.

Though both have the power to make me feel insignificant.

“So I see today is the day we both die,” Zade announces from behind me, causing me to jump.

“Why would we both die?”

Stupid question. I know what he’s going to say the moment the last word leaves my mouth.

“Because if you fall, I’ll follow after you.”

“Claire would be happy about that,” I say, kicking my feet against the rock. “Your death would be the best thing to ever happen to her.”

To no one’s surprise, she asked a million questions before she believed that Jeff and Gary actually captured Zade and me. He had to explain how he found Z. On their way to L.A., they received intel that Zade would come after an auction house in Washington, so they quickly set up a coup and captured him. Of course, I came running when I found out he was being held hostage, and voila. Z and the diamond have been captured.

When she wanted to do a FaceTime call, we could see the intent in Jeff’s eyes from a mile away. The second she got on the call with him, he planned to expose us. But Zade had already anticipated that. It’s not hard to assume the old fart would try to pull one over on us. He’s as predictable as he is stupid.

Everyone has a weakness. A soft spot like on the back of a baby’s head. Hit that spot hard enough, and they’re done for.

Of all people—his wife, kids, and mistress—his mother was the catalyst. Funny that he’s a momma’s boy when women are the number one thing he doesn’t respect.

Bernadette Shelton is nearly on her deathbed anyway, but after one of Zade’s mercenaries took a heart-warming picture of her lying in bed on oxygen, and his gun poised on the tank, Jeff decided to act right. He doesn’t know that Zade nearly kicked his employee’s ass for it and forced him to leave her an edible arrangement for the scare, but the threat worked regardless.

Zade coached Jeff on the story, he then answered Claire’s questions, and she decided it was legitimate enough to come off her cozy island.

Mission accomplished.

Her flight is sixteen hours, so we went back to Parsons to catch up on sleep while Zade is having a team watch over Jeff at the distillery. Gary… well, he died. He was useless with his blown-out kneecaps, so Michael finally put him out of his misery.

“Baby, if you want me dead, I’ll hand you the knife to stick in my chest. Sending us both over the cliff would be a little overkill.”

“And I thought my mom was the dramatic one,” I mutter.

My back is still to him, but I swear I can hear the fucker grinning. “You’re right, you’re the sensible one.”

Shithead.

“You want to tell me why you’re out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Was hearing the footsteps again,” I admit.

“Seems like they’re manifesting your fears,” he says. His presence closes in on me, and I feel him crouch down beside me. If the ground beneath me wasn’t being tested before, it definitely is with his weight.

“What do the footsteps remind you of?” he questions softly, his voice whispering across the shell of my ear.

“My lack of freedom,” I say, staring out at the Bay. “They remind me of how trapped I was. Every time I’d hear her heels coming toward me, something terrible always followed, and there was never any escaping it. There was one time I heard them, and I tried prying all the nails out of the window so I could throw myself out of it. Didn’t even care if it killed me. All I accomplished was breaking my nails instead.”

His hands land on my hips, and he’s pulling me back, pressing me into his hard chest.

“So sitting on the edge of this cliff makes you feel free?”

“Yes,” I say, turning my head to look up at him. His eyes glitter in the sunlight, and I can’t tell which is more dangerous: the edge of this cliff or the way Zade looks at me. “And it makes me feel alive.”

His hand comes up around my throat, tilting my chin further back. His full lips brush across mine, eliciting sharp tingles throughout my body.

“Is it the promise of death that makes you feel alive, little mouse?”

“Yes,” I whisper, electricity dancing between our mouths.

“Then we will both taste heaven together,” he murmurs.

He kisses me softly and slowly, and I feel every second of it in my soul.

Pulling away, he directs, “Face me, baby.”

Biting my lip, I spin and lean back on my hands, bending my knees and spreading them apart.

His eyes drop, traveling across the curves of my body, sending chills down my spine. He looks at me as if he wants to rip me apart with his teeth, and I don’t think I would stop him if he tried.

My breath hitches as his hand slips beneath my t-shirt, and I shiver from the feel of his skin on mine. Slowly, he lifts the fabric up until I’m forced to lean forward so he can remove it altogether.

I shiver again, the breeze whispering across my heated flesh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.

He plants a hand on my chest and roughly pushes me. I gasp, convinced that I’m about to fall off the cliff, but he catches me. I’m flat on my back, and only my head dangles clear over the edge, but it doesn’t calm the absolute panic circulating throughout my system.

I lift my head, staring at him with wide eyes, my heart racing.

“Jesus,” I breathe. He smirks, reaches beneath me, and unclasps my bra, my nipples hardening immediately beneath the cool breeze.

Then, he hovers over me, his warmth seeping into my flesh as he trails his lips over my jaw and down my neck.

“He’s not the one you should be praying to,” he murmurs darkly, sending shivers rolling down my spine. “Only I will be your salvation.”

His fingers grab the waistband of my leggings and tug them down, removing my panties with them. It’s warm and muggy outside, but a whole week of rain has put a cool mist in the air, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps.

“Head back,” he orders.

Swallowing nervously, I do as he says, and I’m overwhelmed by both vertigo and fear. The adrenaline in my system becomes more potent, and my heart pounds erratically.

His lips whisper across my chest, over the swells of my breasts, and to my nipples. His tongue darts out, flicking one of the hardened peaks before his warm mouth closes over it and sucks harshly.

I moan and arch into him, the movement causing my head to slide farther down, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He chuckles darkly, releasing my nipple then traveling down my body.

My heart is nearly coming out of my throat, yet I can feel my thighs growing slick from the thrill. Especially as he slowly parts them, nipping at my sensitive skin as he descends toward my center.

By the time his hot breath fans across my pussy, my legs are trembling and smarting from the bite of his sharp teeth.

He places a soft kiss on my clit, and I jump again when his fingers swipe up my slit, collecting my arousal on his fingers.

“Come here,” he orders. I lift my head, dizzy from seeing the world right-side up again. He pries my mouth open and places his fingers on my tongue. Instinctively, I suck, and Zade’s nostrils flare.

“That’s what freedom tastes like. I want you to have that on your tongue while you watch night fall, and I show you how absolute your life is.”

His fingers retreat, and he bumps my chin, indicating for me to drop my head again. I do, my vision blurring.

Emotion clogs my throat, trapping the flavor in my mouth as he returns to my pussy. I tremble as his tongue slowly slides up my slit, licking me thoroughly and groaning as he does.

“Fucking nirvana,” he purrs, dipping his tongue inside me before ascending to my clit.

I gasp when he sucks hard, the sunset blurring and my eyelids fluttering as he begins to stroke the sensitive bud. My back arches again, though this time, I’m prepared for the small drop and the way it steals my breath.

My hands curl, grasping at the grass and pulling roughly when he hits a spot that has a sharp moan exploding from my throat.

“Zade,” I plead.

His fingers rejoin his mouth, two of them plunging inside me and curling, and I roll my hips into his face so roughly, I feel my body inch down the edge of the cliff further. Another sound bursts from my throat, crowing at the sharp thrill that makes my heart feel like it’s going to combust.

His free hand lands on my hip, holding me in place while he devours my pussy, lapping up everything I have to offer like he’s a prisoner on death row, and this is his final taste of liberation.

There’s a smile pulling at the corners of my lips, tears in my eyes, and moans falling off the tip of my tongue while I stare at the sunset, replaceing what I’ve been searching for. An orgasm settles low in my stomach, sharpening from the feel of my perilous existence hanging by a thread.

His tongue flicks at my clit skillfully, and it takes little effort to send me barreling over. My eyes roll, and a scream ricochets down the jagged rocks and into the water. It feels like I’m close behind, tumbling over the sharp points and into the depths of an ocean I’d gladly drown in.

It seems like hours before my body comes down, and right as I do, he’s dragging me toward him and flipping me onto my stomach. Disoriented, I’m unable to resist when he pulls me up by my hips, settling me on my knees with my head still lowered and peeking over the cliff.

Gasping, I clutch tightly onto the edge, my fingers digging into dirt and rock as he comes down on me, pushing my chin clear past it. My thighs strain from the effort to keep from pitching forward.

His bare cock slides between the crevice of my ass, yet it feels like he’s taunting me with a candy-coated bullet. Beneath the delicious illusion is a threatening vow capable of destroying me.

Fisting my hair, he tilts my head back the slightest bit, giving me a full view of the scenery, “Have you found absolution yet, baby? Or do you need my cock to give it to you?”

His dark words send a chill down my spine, and I shiver from how exquisite it feels.

“Life could never be complete without you,” I moan.

A deep, rumbling growl reaches my ears before he pulls his hips back and sinks himself inside me, only getting a few inches in before it becomes too much. I yelp, the burn from his size causing me to screw my eyes shut.

Fucking hell, he needs goddamn dick reduction surgery.

I feel his answering grin as if hearing my thoughts, and I’m seconds away from throwing us both over the cliff just to spite him.

“You take it so fucking good, Adeline,” he purrs in my ear, his tone devilish. “I will never get tired of the feel of your pussy succumbing to me, and how you cry so fucking pretty when it does.”

On cue, a sharp moan releases from my throat as he inches himself in farther, my body succumbing to him just as he said.

“Keep watching,” he says sinfully. Forcing my eyes open, I watch as the sun begins to crest the water, casting the world in a deep red glow.

He works himself inside me, pumping in and out slowly until he’s seated completely to the hilt, confirming my own words.

I’m so full of him, and I’ve never felt more complete.

“You’re searching for life inside that sunset, yet I seek death between your thighs,” he rasps, his deep voice husky with desire.

Withdrawing to the tip, he thrusts inside me forcefully, and I cry out both from the bliss and the terror of being pushed over the edge.

But he doesn’t relent and continues to fuck me, testing the strength of the earth beneath us with every stroke. He keeps his hand tightly curled in my hair, bringing me back every time his hips push me forward.

I trade between staring out at the water and looking down into the unforgiving rocks that seem to come closer and closer.

My vision blackens from the acute pleasure radiating between my thighs, and the sounds that release from my throat are uncontrollable.

“Oh my God,” I sob, and he drives inside me so hard, my teeth clack from the force.

“You won’t replace God in the sun when he’s already inside you,” he growls, reaching beneath me to replace my clit and strum it expertly while hitting that perfect spot inside me, abusing it relentlessly until I erupt, my body going limp from how powerfully I come for him.

“Zade!” I scream, and I no longer care if I live, as long as this feeling never dies.

He gnashes his teeth, savagely fucking me until he meets the demise he sought after. A roar tears from his throat and he drives inside me so deeply, the both of us nearly meet our end at the bottom of the cliff.

We’d haunt Parsons Manor together, and it’s undeniable how much I love the sound of that.

“You have a spectacular forehead, my friend,” Zade says, a cloud of smoke swirling from the depths of his mouth. Jeff is strapped to a metal chair, and Zade is sitting across from him, puffing on a cigarette with one hand, and bouncing a little bouncy ball off his forehead with the other.

“Where the hell did you even get the ball from?” I ask, shaking my head as it rebounds off Jeff’s very red face again and back into Zade’s awaiting hand.

Our captive is not a happy camper. He’s seething at Zade, his entire body shaking from how heated he is.

He shrugs noncommittally. “I found it.”

Okay. Whatever.

The sound of tires crunching through dirt and blades of grass distracts me, and my heart drops with both adrenaline and anticipation.

“Claire’s here,” I announce. Zade only bounces the ball again in response, his posture relaxed as always.

There are at least fifty men surrounding the area, all hidden from sight. If shit goes awry, we have plenty of backup.

“Jay, she got a battalion with her?” Zade asks him, the Bluetooth chip in his ear as always. He’ll probably die with it in there. “…Three? Someone’s a nervous Nelly,” he murmurs.

“Three cars?” I clarify, my anxiety worsening. Sweat forms on my hairline, and I can’t tell if I’m nervous there’s going to be a full-blown shoot-out or if I’m nervous to see Claire.

The lead-up to the confrontation is what sends my nerves into a tailspin. The anticipation of what’s going to happen. Who’s going to get hurt or die. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, I replace peace, as if I’m standing in the eye of a hurricane.

I just hate the calm before the storm.

“Did you think she’d come alone?” Jeff snips, staring at me like I’m stupid. I narrow my eyes, tempted to rip that ball from Zade’s hands and bounce it off his forehead myself. Then who’d look stupid?

Sensing my train of thought, Zade vaults the ball off his face without looking away from me, landing back into his hand perfectly, his grin deepening.

“Thank you.” I look at Jeff. “Next time, it’ll be a bullet.”

Smartly, he keeps his mouth shut. I was so hoping he wouldn’t.

Zade and I stand when car doors slam shut, the green ball dropping from his hand and rolling off into the distance, replaced by a gun. My own weapon is in my hand, my heart pounding heavily as we wait for Claire to enter.

Several nerve-racking moments later, the huge doors open, an entourage entering first, guns raised. Of course, when they spot us, they freeze, awaiting orders from the red-headed devil in the back, slowly breaking through her guards.

“Just as expected, Jeffrey. Did you really think you were convincing?” Claire’s musical voice rings out, finally making her way out of the group. They crowd around her, uncomfortable with her being exposed in any capacity.

Just like she apparently wasn’t stupid enough to believe Jeff actually captured us, she also wouldn’t believe that we don’t have the place surrounded by our own men.

It’ll be a battle of whose bullet flies the quickest. Or whose aim is the truest.

My shoulders are tight with tension as I look over the evil bitch who’s responsible for so many lost and broken souls. Her bright red hair is perfectly curled around her head, with matching lipstick and black liner smeared over her lids. She dons an all-white pantsuit, which is a message in itself. She expects to walk out of this building with her clothing just as pristine as when she walked in. No blood to be shed—at least not hers.

As fucking if.

A murderous rage arises—not because she had me kidnapped and nearly sold off to a wicked man, but because she went after my mother.

I guess I should thank her for the free therapy for my mommy issues. I’m not sure where we stand right now, but what I do know is there is a desire to fix our relationship that wasn’t there before Claire turned my world over and fucked it sideways.

“Lovely to see you both again,” she remarks, her tone posh, as if we’re going on a stroll in a garden, holding our little teacups and biscuits.

Pious bitch. There’s nothing classy about her nor the way she does business.

“Why did you come if you knew it was a trap?” I ask.

“This isn’t going to end in bloodshed, my dear. I think it’s time we settle this. Z has proven to be resourceful, as have I. Instead of… fighting each other, I think we can come to an agreement instead.”

I train my gaze on Zade, who has his brow arched, but an otherwise blank expression.

Facing Claire again, I wonder if this is an attempt to get a target from one of the world’s most dangerous men off her back. She’s right—she is resourceful. The hag has an entire government at her disposal. But she is as weak as the shield she hides behind. Forced to use others to protect herself because she’s incapable of doing it herself.

She only has the brains behind the operation, but not the strength. Whereas Zade… Zade has both brawn and brains.

Claire knows she can’t hide on that island forever, not any longer than she can evade Zade’s wrath. She’s backed into a corner and knows that Zade would be hard to kill. She’s met her match, and the only way out is with a bargain.

“Let’s sit, shall we?”

“Let’s,” Zade murmurs, turning his back to grab the back of the chair Jeff is sitting in, literally dump him out of it, and motion for me to sit in it as if he’s pulling out my seat in a fine-dining restaurant. Claire takes the one across from me, Jeffrey’s bound body between us.

His face has turned a concerning shade of purple from both anger and embarrassment. Claire hardly glances his way, flicking her eyes to one of her men and ordering, “Dispose of him.”

Seconds later, a bullet is sluicing through Jeff’s brain and out the other side. He’s dead before his head hits the floor.

Mine and Zade’s gazes clash, an amused glint in his mismatched eyes as he grabs the third chair, twists it, and straddles it backwards, turning his intense gaze to Claire.

Her pulse thrums in her neck, and she works to swallow. I snort softly. If I didn’t know any better, it seems that her lady bits are no more impervious to Zade than any other red-blooded woman. Given the chance, she would gladly fuck Zade before she put a knife in his throat.

“Before we start, how about we establish a mutual trust? All of my men are tucked away out of sight, not a single barrel down your throat, so how about you send your cronies to the door? They can stay if they must and will have a perfect shot at me, but they need to back the fuck off, yeah?”

Thinning her gaze, she considers Zade’s request for a moment before acquiescing. Reluctantly, her guards spread out across the front entrance, ensuring they all have a perfect view of us.

“Lay it on me, Claire. What’s your proposition?” Zade asks but then holds up a hand to stop her when she opens her mouth. “Make sure it’s good, too. You had my girl kidnapped, raped, and tortured, and her mother nearly killed.”

Her red-stained lips tighten into a firm line, seeming not to appreciate the reminder of all her wrong-doings. Makes me wonder how the fuck she sleeps at night. Or maybe she’s secretly a reptile and doesn’t need to. That’s honestly more believable at this point.

“I will help you eliminate trafficking,” Claire says. When Zade and I stay silent, processing her offer, she continues, “While the skin trade is vastly profitable, there is something more that I desire.”

“And what is that?” Zade prompts, voice deep and low.

“Absolute control over the human population, of course. Right now, people are too self-aware of their useless existence. I want full power—us both to have full power.”

My brow pinches, a nasty look on my face.

“To do what with?” he asks. “What exactly do you intend to do with this power?”

“Create a whole new era, of course. We can do anything we want. We could make their lives useful, give them a real purpose.”

“And what would that purpose be?” I cut in. “To be mindless robots that would serve you?”

“Suffering would end,” she snaps, turning her glacial green eyes to me. There really is no soul in there. “And this planet would thrive. If humans had real law and order, we could do so many things. End world hunger, close the gap between the poor and the rich, and lessen poverty and homelessness.”

I shake my head. “You’re trying to make taking away people’s free will sound virtuous.”

“It is,” she retorts.

I blink, absolutely confounded. “Are we in a movie? There’s no way you’re serious.” Turning to Zade, I replace him staring at Claire, absently rubbing his fingers together, his brain churning. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”

He cocks a brow. “It would appear so.”

More than anything, I’d love to know what he’s thinking. This is something you only see in theaters or books. Some new world order shit that seems so far outside the realm of possibility, people turn it into fiction for entertainment. I’ve literally written books like this myself.

“You’re exchanging one form of slavery for another,” he says finally.

“I’m exchanging human suffering for a new, better world,” she argues. “The technology you could create would advance us into an entirely new era.” She turns her attention to me, and I realize she is a fucking reptile. She’s a goddamn snake. “No one would ever suffer through what you have ever again. No more children sacrificed. No more women sold. I would dismantle it all.”

“What’s stopping you from doing this now?” I argue. “What’s stopping you from trying to take over?”

“Zade,” she answers simply, turning to address him. “You’ve been a thorn in my side since you created your organization and have set out to destroy everything I’ve worked hard for. And I’ll admit, you’re quite good at it, which is why I want to form an alliance where we’re working together, not against each other. I will give you what you want so badly, and in return, you help me with what I want.”

“Talk to me like I’m stupid, Claire,” Zade says dryly. “You want me to stop exposing the government? No, you want more than that. You want me to create some type of technology to implant in people’s brains and make them actual robots? Make it to where they have no fight?”

She raises her brows, a smile forming. “Now there’s an idea. I can create a new world with laws and consequences for breaking them. Your technology could advance us and make it easier to enforce these laws. We could force people to walk in a straight line, wherever we draw it. But taking away their ability to think for themselves? My God, that’d be wonderful.”

Her eyes alight with excitement. “Could you do that?”

I can only gape at her, utterly speechless. Does ending human trafficking sound like a dream? Absolutely. But in exchange for some fantastical idea to rip away people’s free will and turn them into zombies.

I’m not even sure what exactly she’d do with them all, but I don’t care to know. I want the same thing Zade has always wanted. To eradicate the skin trade. But that desire has never come with unrealistic expectations.

“Technology can do anything. Its only limitation is its creator,” Zade says.

She grins, and I see something twinkle in her eye that she’s stolen from so many. From me.

Hope.

But it doesn’t belong to her—it belongs to the souls she’s responsible for breaking.

“You see? We can do anything,” she breathes. “I believe you have no limitations.”

Zade’s stare darkens, and the tightness in my chest eases.

“You’re right, Claire. I don’t.”

She completely misinterprets his meaning because her smile only widens, too blinded by the possibilities to see what’s lying in wait.

“You already have power,” I remind her. “You’re a shadow government that controls the entire country. More so now with your partners dead. That’s not enough for you? Now you want world domination?”

She leans forward, baring her teeth as she hisses, “Maybe your puny brain isn—”

“You know what your problem is?” Zade cuts in. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about forming an alliance. Do you really think insulting her is going to get you anywhere?” Zade stands, and though I can see Claire fighting with herself, she forces her spine straight. Her bodyguards take aim, but Zade moves as if he’s encased in bulletproof armor.

My heart picks up speed, adrenaline surfacing because the bozo does not, in fact, have on bulletproof armor, and if one bullet comes anywhere near him, I’m going to fucking lose it.

“Belittling those who support you isn’t smart. Haven’t you read the history books? Using fear to demand respect is a fragile construct. It doesn’t last because no one can trust you, and the first opportunity they have to betray you, they take. Z isn’t built on fear, Claire. It’s built on the mutual desire to kill people like you. And you know what? My organization trusts me to do that.”

Her eyes widen, sensing the incoming doom before it happens. A line of bombs is planted along the front of the distillery, right below where Claire’s men are standing. In seconds, the explosives detonate, creating a deafening blast.

The force of the explosion sends us back a step or two, and I cover my face as debris flies around us. We made sure the bomb wasn’t so powerful that it’d send the building crashing down around us, but enough to blow someone—or someones—to pieces.

A few of her guards who were standing on the outskirts wriggle, missing limbs but still alive and set on going out in a blaze of glory. They’re shot dead before they can lift their guns towards Zade and me, his team behind us and hiding in the depths of the distillery.

Zade seizes Claire by the throat and lifts her in the air, a snarl overtaking his face. Her eyes bulge as fire rages behind her, washing her in the very glow her soul will forever be consumed in.

“You sent my world crashing down around me just like this, remember? Setting off bombs and then taking Addie from me. How does it feel, Claire? To have come so close to succeeding, only for your soul to be ripped away instead?”

She kicks her legs desperately, trying and failing to gain some type of footing to relieve the chokehold Zade has her in. Clawing his skin, she leaves trails as red as the paint on her nails.

“Would you like to do the honors, baby?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me with eyes as bright as the fire before us. Something deep and carnal flickers in my stomach, and I can’t deny the excitement thrumming in my bloodstream any more than Zade can.

“Yes,” I smile, approaching the pair. He readjusts, gripping Claire by the nape and holding her in place, despite her desperate efforts to get away. Clutching my black and purple knife tightly, I lift it to her throat, pressing until blood sprouts beneath the blade.

This woman is responsible for every one of my demons. I was fairly normal before the Society laid eyes on me. And while fear and adrenaline always did something inexplicable to me, the thought of murdering someone was repulsive. It was something I rallied against when Zade came into my life, and even when I fell in love with him, it was something that I hadn’t fully accepted yet.

And now look—she’s faced with her own creation, an angel of death with a knife to her throat and intoxicated by the sight of her blood.

“Please!” she begs shrilly. “We can work something out!”

“You reap what you sow, Claire,” I say, then slowly slice the knife across her throat, cutting through sinew and muscle. Blood splatters across my face, but I rejoice in the feel of it. I stop right before the jugular, wanting her death to be a slow and painful one.

Will it be her own life flashing before her eyes or all the ones that she stole?

I hope they come down from paradise and personally drag her to fucking Hell.

Slowly suffocating on her blood, Zade drags her over to the raging fire in the front of the distillery, her men’s dead bodies scattered.

Claire’s fight increases, and even amid death, she can feel when it’s only going to get worse. Pausing before a fire, Zade grips her bloody throat in his fist and lifts her, staring into her wide, desperate eyes.

“Fucking burn, bitch,” he growls, then vaults her into it, her body instantly consumed in flames.

Choked screaming arises, but the sounds can hardly make it through. Her form convulses and thrashes, and I wrinkle my nose at the rancid stench that follows.

She walked into this place firmly believing she could conquer the world if only she gave Zade the one thing he’s been working so hard for.

Doesn’t she know?

Zade is a God.

And the only one who will conquer this world is him.