Chapter 92 Chapter Ninety Two

• I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Alexander’s question hung in the air, heavier than any threat he had made earlier.
• Rossa didn’t answer immediately. He had that look—the one he got when he was weighing lives against outcomes, futures against mistakes. I hated that look because it always meant someone was about to walk into danger willingly.
• “You’re asking for more than help,” Rossa finally said. “You’re asking to step into a war your father spent years trying to shield you from.”